


Put on your war-paint

by Ischa



Series: War [1]
Category: Batman (Comics), Dark Knight Rises (2012)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Case Fic, Families of Choice, Friendship, Gen, Kidnapping, Mild Sexual Content, Vigilantism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-06-07
Packaged: 2017-12-11 11:20:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 29,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/798130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ischa/pseuds/Ischa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which John takes up the cowl and Barsad becomes a vigilante by accident. </p><p>  <i>“The police are breathing down my fucking neck,” the Heir says. </i><br/><i>“This one’s not on me,” Barsad replies calmly. He owns his kills. “Not that I didn’t want to see him dead.”</i><br/><i>The Heir sighs. “So what? I just have to believe you?”</i><br/><i>“I own up to my-”</i><br/><i>“Murders?” He cuts in.</i><br/><i>“Whatever you want to call them. You know they had it all coming and if it weren’t me, it would’ve been someone else. No shortage on blood thirst in this town.”</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Нанеси свой боевой раскрас.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3999436) by [KateMintTea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KateMintTea/pseuds/KateMintTea)



> I have no idea what this is going to be, right now it's a case/friendship/family of choice kind of story. Which means pretty much gen. Warnings and pairings will be added should they become necessary.  
> Beta by Icalynn  
> Vaguely inspired by this prompt: http://tdkr-kink.livejournal.com/3076.html?thread=2868740#t2868740  
> Title: Fall Out Boy

**~Zero~**  
John knows he's not the greatest detective that has ever lived – and it's still up to debate if that has been Sherlock Holmes or Batman – but it doesn't take a genius to see a pattern here.  
Gordon's going to wonder about the new vigilante in town if this continues.  
John is not looking away from the dead rapist. He has known this man had been one of the worst, but there hasn't been any evidence to make a case, seems someone already played jury and executioner in one go to save time.  
John wonders who is good enough to take out four of the best trained bodyguards to get to this piece of human- he stops right there and breathes. The bodyguards aren't dead. That's something. It means that there isn't a psychopath running around, or a serial killer with a serious grudge against rapists. Which, John totally gets. He would've kicked the living shit out of that bastard too. He's not going to cry or feel guilty about it. But he can't allow people to play executioner in his city.  
   
~+~  
Barsad throws his bloody shirt in the washing machine and watches it spin for a while. One night`s work. It’s not the destruction of a city, but it’s a start. He gets up and makes some tea in the small pantry kitchen, leaning against the counter as he sips it carefully.  
He misses Bane. It’s a simple fact. As long as Barsad can think back he always had someone to take care of, to follow, to believe in. Now he has nothing, but a few more bullet scars to show he had been in fact in Gotham and survived the occupation. It had been a near thing, but he is alive and well enough again to take on the scum of this city that he chose to make his home.  
Lord knows the new vigilante in town isn’t up to that. What was Wayne even thinking? Because there is no doubt in Barsad’s mind that Wayne, that Batman, chose his heir. It had been probably something about his good heart or some other sentimental crap.  
What this city needs is a warrior.  
Not some boy who tries to be someone he isn’t.


	2. Chapter 2

**~One~**  
“I know it’s not you,” Gordon says. “Someone else is hunting in your district,” he exhales smoke and John suppresses a smile. 

“I thought that would be you, Commissioner,” John answers. 

Gordon smiles wryly. “I don’t hunt, and I don’t jump from buildings either.” 

“I’m working on it,” John replies. He is working on it. He has no idea where to even start, except the victims but the police are doing that too. And very slowly they are connecting the dots. 

“Most guys don’t work on this too hard, I have to admit. This guy – or girl,” Gordon says, “is cleaning the streets up nicely. Permanently too. Less paperwork with a dead body than a living criminal.” 

“And you, Commissioner?” John asks, and wishes he could say for sure. But there isn’t only black and white anymore, and after the Occupation no one in Gotham is the same. 

“I don’t want anyone to play executioner on my watch B-” he stops. “Did you decide on a name yet?”

John wonders if he wanted to say ‘Batman’ or ‘Blake’. “Working on that one too,” he answers. 

“Better you do it, than the press,” Gordon replies, inhaling deeply. 

“Turned out okay for the Batman,” John says. 

Gordon smiles. “Define okay?” 

“He’s not dead, you know, right?” John asks, he never really thought about if Gordon knows or not. But the Batsignal had been restored to its former glory.

“I hoped he was.”

“He is,” John says. “He is alive and well – for his, no. He is okay.” John hasn’t heard from Wayne except for that one cryptic message he got after Wayne was declared dead, but he just knows that Wayne took whatever money he had stored away under a false name, took Kyle’s hand and ran.   
   
~+~  
John throws the costume on a chair and looks long and hard at himself in the mirror. If he’s honest here for a second, he has no idea what he is even doing. He has had no training. All he has are his wits, the basic academy training (which isn’t much) and all the cool toys Batman left him. And Mr Fox’s number. Thank god for that. At least the suit fits better now. He had been tempted to put on the cowl, but as soon as he had it on, he had felt…wrong. He isn’t Batman. Batman is dead. But then this city needs someone to stalk the shadows.   
Which brings him back to the other guy that is stalking the shadows and killing people. John’s killed people before in the line of duty. It hadn’t been a good feeling. It left him with regret that he couldn’t find another way. This new guy doesn’t have the same regrets. That much is clear.   
So, John thinks, he needs to look for someone who is accustomed to killing. Who has been trained and well at that. Who knows how to follow clues and avoid being seen.   
Someone who also knows Gotham. The uglier parts. And knows how to take out targets fast and merciless.   
Basically he’s looking for Batman minus the killing.   
He throws on a hoodie and grabs his keys. He needs to look at Batman’s files again.   
   
~+~  
Wayne has been trained by The League of Shadows. Ras is dead, Bane is dead, Miranda Tate – or maybe he should call her Talia now – is dead. Everyone who had been trained by the League are dead.   
John has no leads. Except, he thinks, after the battle Gotham was a mess of dead bodies. Some were never accounted for. Maybe someone had survived. But if someone from the League survived why would they stalk the freaking shadows? John wonders and pulls up all the files he has on the members of the League and Bane’s army.   
There are several bodies with no names attached. John is going to find out whatever the hell he can about these men and then he will – do something.   
And while he can do that during daytime hours, he will stalk the shadows by night. He pulls the files with all the scum he has no evidence on just yet - and will probably never have – and picks out the worst case. And then he goes with his gut-instinct and picks the child-slaver he has an eye on for weeks now. If John can find him, he’s sure the other vigilante or whatever he’s going to call that guy – has an eye on him too.   
   
~+~  
The waiting is the worst. The stalking is okay as long as John can at least move. This here is way too monotonous for him, but maybe he has been spoiled by – no, he has not been spoiled by the fucking Occupation. He shakes his head slightly. It’s raining again, and the rain has a gritty quality to it since the bomb exploded. Sometimes, John wonders what the nice after-effects will bring them.   
The man leaves his apartment at one thirty-seven and soon after a shadow moves in the corner of John’s eye. John watches from his perch on the rooftop. And then follows at a safe distance. He has always been good in tracking people down. Had to, really, when the small kids played hide and seek and got themselves into trouble.   
John jumps down just as the shadow takes out a knife. He kicks, but he’s immediately blocked. Their target makes a run for it. and John curses softly under his breath.

“Thought you would go after Miller,” the man says. 

John doesn’t recognize the voice, but something about the calm and precise way of his opponent’s kicks and blows strike John as familiar. Definitely trained by the League.   
“Funny thing? Thought about it for a second, before the gut instinct kicked in,” John replies. He probably shouldn’t engage in fucking conversation while he’s fighting for his life – and John is sure he’s fighting for his life, this man is so much better in hand to hand combat than John – but he can’t help it and besides: he didn’t start it. 

“At least you have that,” the man says and there is a smile in his voice as he pins John against the brick-wall of the shady alley they’ve been fighting in. 

“And a lot of cool toys,” John replies using one of them to get free. He lands on the rooftop a bit unsteady. 

The man looks up at him. John can only see his eyes as he’s wearing a mask. “Until next time then,” he says and disappears.  

John takes a deep breath. Well, he thinks, that was fun and then realizes that it really had been fun.   
Fuck.


	3. Chapter 3

**~Two~**  
The heir to the cowl is green behind his ears, but it’s not like he doesn’t know what he’s doing, Barsad decides. He fights dirty – like he has been on the streets for some time. Barsad can respect that and he is sure other – less trained – criminals (not that he thinks of himself as a criminal) will too.   
In a twisted way it’s a common ground. Barsad likes to connect with people. And he and the Heir (Barsad is going to call him the Heir in his mind until the press gives him a name) have similar goals. Well, the same, the methods are different because they come from two different worlds. Barsad has no problems with killing the bad guys, sometimes (for a higher cause) he has no problem with killing the good guys either.   
The Heir was chosen by Batman, he sure as hell has some hang-ups in that particular area.   
He throws his dirty clothes into the washing machine and takes a shower.   
   
~+~  
There aren’t that many people who can be behind that cowl, Barsad muses. Wayne didn’t have many people he called friends and even less he trusted. Not even Selina Kyle knew he had been Batman. Barsad could see the shock of realization on her face as Bane fought him.   
He misses Bane, he can admit it to himself. He feels lost without a cause, a leader, someone to share a goal with and maybe that’s why he stayed in Gotham.   
Besides where else would an ex-mercenary go? The answer is: lots of places that weren’t Gotham. Still something is keeping him here and Barsad always listens to his gut-instinct. It has saved his life, it also led him here, but maybe he had been blindsided by Talia. She could make a damn good case if she wanted to.   
He boils some water and makes tea while he thinks about his next moves. With the Heir on his tail it will be harder to kill the people he doesn’t think deserve a second chance.   
On the other side: the Heir can’t be the only one chasing him down. There are other pressing matters. Gotham is full of pressing matters.   
   
~+~  
The next time they see each other, the Heir is glaring at him. They’re on opposite sides of the dead body. This time it wasn’t Barsad who offed the bastard, but he wishes he were. 

“The police are breathing down my fucking neck,” the Heir says. 

“This one’s not on me,” Barsad replies calmly. He owns his kills. “Not that I didn’t want to see him dead.” 

The Heir sighs. “So what? I just have to believe you?”

“I own up to my-”

“Murders?” He cuts in. 

“Whatever you want to call them. You know they had it all coming and if it weren’t me, it would’ve been someone else. No shortage on blood thirst in this town.”

“Let’s say I believe you, then someone else has killed him. The question is who.”

“No,” Barsad says. “The question is why.” 

The Heir looks at him then, his head tilted a bit. Like he’s still trying to figure out who Barsad is. He probably is. Knows for sure that Barsad has been trained by the League. But even he has been Bane’s right hand man, he kept a relatively low profile. And he is presumed dead, even if his body was never recovered. A lot of bodies were never recovered – including Batman’s.   
“Fine, the question is why. Wanna share some theories?” 

“Now you want to compare notes? What would Batman say to that?” 

“Batman isn’t here,” the Heir says. “I am.” 

Barsad nods. At least the new guy has spine. Spine and good gut-instinct are half the rent – as the German’s like to say.   
“I’ll look into it. By what do you go now anyway?” He asks. 

“No idea yet,” the Heir answers. 

“Better find out soon, before the media gives you a stupid name you will never live down.”

“Fucking everybody is on my case because of this,” he answers and Barsad can’t help the laugh. He’s genuinely amused. The new vigilante is less broody than the last, but then the new vigilante hasn’t seen as much – maybe. Barsad doesn’t know anything about the Heir. He has to admit he didn’t dig too deep. He doesn’t think the Heir will show him the same courtesy. The good guys never do after all. 

“Sometimes, everybody has a point,” Barsad replies and makes to leave. 

“Wait,” the Heir says. 

“Yes?” 

“How do I contact you?” 

“You’re asking for my number?” Barsad can’t help but ask. 

“I am not asking for your number, just a number, where I can reach you, because apparently we have someone here who likes to make their victims suffer-”

“And the police are on your case,” Barsad replies. 

The Heir nods. Barsad gives him a cell number that can’t be traced back and makes him repeat it too. “It’s been a pleasure,” he says before he disappears and has to realize that it really has been a pleasure.   
Barsad doesn’t dwell on it. If the circumstances were different, he might even have liked the Batman. After all he admires the man’s strength, his wit, his – pretty much everything, except the blind loyalty to his city.   
But now that he’s gone, maybe this isn’t Batman’s city anymore. Maybe Barsad and the Heir can make it their own playground.   
Barsad has to admit he would like that.


	4. Chapter 4

**~three~**  
John isn’t sure Batman would approve of this, but then Batman isn’t really, wasn’t he corrects, wasn’t, really a team-player and John is. That’s why he joined the force, and to do good and help people of course.   
There should be, he thinks, a place where vigilantes in training and whatnot could meet up and have a nice cup of tea. John hates meetings in damp, stinking alleys. And the other guy is late again. John only hopes he doesn’t kill a few people on his way here. 

“You look grumpy,” a voice says from the shadows above him. Damn, but this guy is good. John doesn’t even feel him staring and he is sure he has been staring.  

“You’re late,” John replies. 

“Ran into trouble on my way here.” 

“Are you okay?” It’s out of his mouth before he can even think about it. 

The vigilante nods. “Nothing I couldn’t handle.”

“Are they all dead?” 

The guy laughs. “I’m not killing people just for _fun_. I’m able to keep them alive-”

“You just kill those who deserve it then?”

“Yes,” he answers. 

“But it’s not your call to decide who deserves to live and who doesn’t,” John says. 

“Whose is it then?” The vigilante asks. 

God’s, John wants to say, but he doesn’t believe in god since his dad was murdered in front of him. “People thought my dad deserved to die and that I deserved to watch it happen,” he says instead. 

The vigilante is silent for a short while. “Bad things happen to good people. I make sure far less bad things happen to far less good people.” 

“So, no second chances?” 

“I’m not saying that. But sometimes you just know these people won’t take the first lesson to heart or the second or the fifth.” 

John knows that, still. It goes against everything he thought he stands for. It sure goes against everything Batman stood for, but then Batman has been trained by the League of Shadows, so… John really wishes he could talk to Bruce.   
“Let's compare notes and get out of here. I need a cup of tea,” John says instead of everything else that is in his head.   
The vigilante nods.   
   
~+~  
It’s a fucking accident. John is racing down a stairway when something hits him hard. The suit absorbs some of the shock but not all of it. He looks down on himself and there is blue paint on his front, he pats himself down, smearing it in the process. He is okay, he decides. Just a desperate act of some punk-kid. Damn. He gets up and jumps the rest of the stairs down, racing after him.   
   
~+~  
“Looks like wings,” Lucius says as John hands the suit over for repair. 

“Wings, hmm? Maybe we could leave it then?”

“Or we could make it a real design,” Lucius answers with a small smile. 

John really likes the man. He nods, rubbing his neck. He needs a good night’s sleep for god’s sake and a job, so it won’t be too suspicious that he has more money than he can spend. Courtesy of Wayne.   
“I hope the press won’t come up with something with angels in it,” John says. 

“Why haven’t you found a name for your vigilante persona yet, John?” Lucius asks. 

“I have no idea. It’s hard, okay? I didn’t have a traumatic childhood experience-” Lucius looks at him. “In a cave,” John finishes smoothly. “Besides, the boy who saw his dad die is kinda long.” 

“It is long,” he says. “I will work on some designs and mail them over, John.” 

“Thank you, Mister Fox,” Jon replies. 

“Call me Lucius,” he says with a smile.   
   
~+~  
The press runs with it. Even before Fox comes up with a real design. Someone, John thinks one of the punk-kids he had been after that night, made a video. The blue is light and visible on his black suit. The paint does look like wings. 

“So, Nightwing,” the vigilante says. 

“It’s not the worst name they could’ve come up with,” John replies. 

The vigilante nods. “It’s not. One of the kids in a forum came up with it and the Gazette ran with it. I would sue if I were him,” the vigilante answers and holds out a thermos of tea to John. John takes it because he doesn’t think it’s poisoned and it’s freaking cold for Mai in Gotham. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it,” the vigilante says. “Any leads on the dead guys? Or are you still too preoccupied with finding out who I am?” 

“Can’t blame a boy for trying,” John answers, but the truth is he stopped really trying two months ago. He likes this no strings attached partnership they have going on and the vigilante hasn’t killed anyone since they teamed up either. Or he hides the bodies better now. Who knows? John has too much on his plate right now to look into it any deeper. “Spoke to Gordon,” John says. 

“Good to have someone on the inside you thrust,” the vigilante replies. 

John doesn’t say that Gordon is more of a friend, he is sure the vigilante knows. “Here is all he has on the dead guys,” John says, handing a USB over. He isn’t good in forensics like Batman, he has to rely on the work of others and his instincts. His instincts tell him that the vigilante has some basic training in that too. Like everything else. When it comes down to this, John can admit, that he is trained better and most likely the better vigilante too, but he steps over the line more often than any vigilante should. Or maybe that’s his inner Batman talking.   
John’s heard about the hood guy over in Starling City after all. 

“I’ll let you know when I find something,” the vigilante says. 

“Thanks,” John replies to the empty place the vigilante used to be a second ago. He really needs to learn that trick, but he thinks that Gordon prefers it that he actually finishes a conversation before he jumps from a rooftop. 


	5. Chapter 5

**~four~**  
Barsad has the basic training, but he has no connections in this town. At least none he would trust. The only one he can rely on is Nightwing. And Nightwing has connections and the police’s trust, now that Barsad stopped killing people. It was common sense to stop killing them and leaving them around to be found. He needs a new identity and – what? Is he really going to stay here in Gotham and try to right the wrongs? Lord knows Gotham needs someone to keep her in check. And Nightwing is still learning the ropes.   
   
~+~  
“Okay, I’m here,” Nightwing says. They’re in an abandoned gym in the shady part of town, because that’s where Barsad’s last victim lived. Barsad took over his tiny apartment and no one looked at him twice. People here are used to these kinds of things and Barsad does pay his rent in cash. The dirty scumbags he punishes carry usually a gun and money. 

“You need to learn how to fight,” Barsad replies. 

Nightwing crosses his arms over his chest and looks at him hard, Barsad waits him out. Nightwing isn’t stupid. He knows Barsad is better, could have him pinned against the wall in seconds if he wanted to. It’s a good thing they are on the same side. Kind of.   
“Okay,” he says eventually. 

“You have basic training and some dirty moves, I am pretty sure you learned from streetkids.”

Nightwing nods. “Yeah.” 

“We can work with all of that,” Barsad says. 

Nightwing nods again and they begin.   
   
~+~  
Once a week they meet up to train and it makes Barsad a better fighter too. He’s only ever trained with the League, and before that he fought with the streetkids that tried to steal from his mother’s shop. So he knows some of the dirtier moves Nightwing uses, but not all of them.   
The training is hard, but not life and death hard. He has nothing to prove to anyone here, except to himself, and it’s fun.   
He leans against the wall and takes a few deep breathes. Nightwing is getting better. 

“Got you to sweat,” he says with a grin. 

“You did,” Barsad answers, handing him a bottle of water. They don’t share and they keep it to themselves, because Barsad doesn’t trust Nightwing enough to share his DNA with him just yet. Hmm, he thinks that sounded a bit dirty in his own mind. He usually doesn’t make such connections. 

“I’m getting better at this whole vigilante thing.”

“Batman should have stayed to train you. He had been a very good pupil.” 

Nightwing nods. That isn’t news to him. He knows that Barsad was trained by the League, but he doesn’t know, doesn’t maybe want to know, how well.   
“He gave this city everything he could give it,” Nightwing replies. 

“Including you,” Barsad says and Nightwing’s head snaps in his direction. Barsad didn’t mean it that way, but well… “I’m sorry,” he says. 

“No, it’s nothing,” Nightwing replies. “Another round?” 

“Sure,” Barsad says easily. 

~+~  
Barsad doesn’t really think about it, as soon as he finds a lead he calls Nightwing on his untraceable phone. Not that Barsad doesn’t know where Wayne had his basis of operations. He is sure Nightwing also inherited the Cave.    
They meet up on one of the many rendezvous points they have by now. It’s raining again. Barsad puts the hood over his head as he waits. It’s distracting when he’s fighting and not to mention dangerous as it can be grabbed by an opponent, but this rendezvous point is on a roof with nowhere to go, really. And the only person he’s going to meet here is Nightwing. 

“You called,” Nightwing says landing smoothly on the rooftop. He’s learned a lot since Barsad started training with him. He’s faster, quitter, and a lot deadlier than he used to be. Even if Barsad knows he won’t use some of the techniques he’s learned.  

Barsad nods. “I found something,” he replies and hands the files over. 

Nightwing presses his back against the brick-wall in an attempt to hide from the rain. His hair is a mess and he looks younger somehow this way. 

“What’s with the hood?” He asks a bit distracted. 

“Keeps away the rain,” Barsad answers. 

“Makes you look like a shadow,” Nightwing says, studying the files. “So, you found that scumbag and want me in on it. Afraid you’ll kill him?”

“Yes,” Barsad answers, because it’s the truth. He always prefers the truth and it’s a mighty weapon.   
For a second something flitters over Nightwing’s face, but he schools his features into the impassive vigilante mask he wears when he’s out on patrol. “It’s a good thing, I had nothing else to do this evening.” 

“Might take the whole night,” Barsad answers. 

“Ah, promises, promises,” Nightwing says. Barsad can see the moment he catches himself. He’s comfortable around Barsad and Barsad wonders if that will change when he finds out who his partner in crime really is. Probably. 

“Let’s go,” he says and Nightwing follows.   
   
~+~  
Barsad doesn’t live in fear like so many other people in hiding. He is prepared for whatever might come. Even the emotional backslash once Nightwing discovers who he is. He put himself in this situation after all. No one made him. He teamed up with Nightwing, he chose to train Nightwing, he befriended Nightwing. And he had done it well knowing that it would all come down, probably, when his identity is discovered. Barsad has no illusions about that fact. Nightwing has a sharp mind. He connects the dots fast and he has good intuition. It’s only a matter of time.   
Barsad could make it swift and just tell Nightwing who he teamed up with, but a part of him, a big part of him, doesn’t want it to end. Not yet, at least. 

Despite himself he calls this rotten city his home now. And he cares for it to some degree. Just yesterday he stopped some kids beating the shit out of a homeless guy – and not even as the unnamed vigilante. He did it as himself. He tossed the homeless guy his grocery bag too and went shopping again.   
People at the corner shop know him. The elderly Asian woman nods and smiles when she sees him. And the boy who’s loitering around his building in the red hoodie is bumming cigarettes and leaving him stale cookies in return. Sometimes. Often they sit on the stairs and say nothing. The boy vibrates with anger and frustration. Barsad wonders why he doesn’t kick a homeless man or two. 

“Ran into some kids kicking a homeless guy the other day,” Barsad says handing the kid a cigarette. He isn’t old enough to smoke, but then who the hell is? Especially in a city like Gotham, in this part of town. 

“Did you kick their asses?” The boy asks. 

Barsad nods. “Sure. Was wondering about you.” 

The boy shrugs. “There are people who deserve it,” he says, because Barsad has seen him fight in an alley too. He’s vicious, fast, and strong, but untrained. “Harmless old man? Not so much.” He takes a deep drag from his cigarette and stares at the door on the other side of the street. That’s where he lives. Barsad knows that because he makes it his business to know what kind of people live around him, what kind of people he hangs out with. Even kids. 

“Yes,” Barsad says and thinks for all his faults the boy’s a good kid. Smart too. He shouldn’t be loitering around the building or doing god only knows what on the streets. He should be in school. Barsad lights his own cigarette and doesn’t say any of this.


	6. Chapter 6

**~five~**  
John works on different cases on any given day. Some are more important than others and the very nasty ones he shares with Shadow, as the press has titled him – must have been a rainy day when he kicked ass -, and knows that the other vigilante does the same. 

The kidnappings are getting to John, mostly because the first victim turned up dead in Gotham bay. Two weeks, three days after he has been taken. There is no real pattern. Boys and girls, rich and poor. Even there are more poor children missing, but that’s always the case. Five so far when he counts from the first disappearance of the dead boy. Some are runaways. The problem is to find out which were kidnapped and which ones just ran away. 

“There are way too many missing children’s reports,” Gordon says. “And some people don’t even bother to report their kid missing.” 

John nods. “But someone is kidnapping and killing children.” 

“We have one body so far,” Gordon says. 

“I can feel it in my guts,” John replies. “Shadow says the same.” He also trusts John’s gut feeling. 

“About that,” Gordon says, throwing his butt over the railing. John had been wondering when this whole Shadow thing would come up. Seems tonight is the night. “He is the guy who left rapists and murderers on our doorstep.” 

“He doesn’t kill them anymore,” John replies. Or at least he hides it better. 

Gordon nods. “The small-town gangsters fear him.” 

“They fear anyone who’s stronger and better trained.” 

“You trust him then?” Gordon asks. 

John shakes his head. “I don’t know. Verdict on this one is still out.” 

“You don’t know who he is,” Gordon realizes. 

“You trusted Batman without knowing who he was,” John counters. 

“Batman never killed anyone,” Gordon says. 

Except Ra’s, John thinks. He may not have pulled the trigger, but he made the decision not to help him well knowing Ra’s would die. John’s read all the files. When it comes down to it Batman was only human too. People tend to forget that, but then most people didn’t ever see the human side of the Batman. 

“He can help. He was trained by the same people Batman was,” John says instead of all the other things. It wouldn’t help anyone. 

“I trust you to keep him in check, if necessary, Nightwing,” Gordon replies. There is a smile around the corner of his lips as he says ‘Nightwing’. 

“It’s not the worst thing the press could’ve come up with,” John says. 

“Has a certain ring to it, for sure. Nightwing and Shadow. A bit like an old western movie.” 

“Please keep that thought to yourself,” John says and Gordon laughs. 

~+~  
Shadow hands him a thermos and John gives him the USB. It’s slowly getting warmer. John can nearly smell the spring. He takes a sip of his hot tea and looks over the deserted park.

“Missing kids are the worst,” John says. 

“Dead kids are the worst,” Shadow replies. There is something hard and bitter in his voice. John wants to ask, but he isn’t sure it’s his place. Not yet, maybe. 

He nods instead. “Gordon is on the fence about this one. Isn’t sure if it’s really a serial killer.”

“Because they only discovered one body?” 

“Yeah, and because they have so many missing kids,” John answers. “It’s depressing really.” 

“It’s always been that way. It’s that way in every metropolis,” Shadow answers. 

“I know we have other cases, other scumbags, but-”

“Yeah,” Shadow interrupts. “I’m going to make it my priority too. Gordon will look into it as soon as another body is found on the shore.” 

It’s good John thinks, that he doesn’t have to do this alone. “Yes, but by then it will be too late for that one life.” 

“Waiting for the first move is always the hardest,” Shadow says. 

“It’s not his first move. His first move was the kidnapping of five children and the murder of the boy they found in the bay this morning.” 

“I would like to look at the body if possible,” Shadow replies. 

“I’ll talk to Gordon. I’m sure he made exceptions for Batman.” 

“He would make exceptions for you,” he says. 

“I’m shit at forensics and stuff. You aren’t,” John replies. 

“I don’t think you want to be there when I look at the body?” Shadow asks. 

“Only if Gordon makes me. I really don’t-” he runs a hand through his hair. It's a tell and he knows, and he also knows that he should train himself out of these things, but-fuck it. At least tonight. “They’re children,” he finishes with. 

Shadow nods. “I will let you know when I find anything.” 

‘When’ John thinks, not ‘if’. He breathes a bit easier knowing that. He stays until the thermos is empty and then goes hunting petty thieves in the dark, trusting Shadow to do his job. 

~+~  
Just because he's working his first big case, the one about the ripper he teamed up with Shadow for the first time doesn't really count, he still has a lot of other stuff on his plate.  
While Shadow is in the morgue, or brooding over clues, John is keeping an eye out for the scum and keeping an eye on the street-kids. He knows he can't make them go home – most of them don't have a home that deserves that name anyway – but he can look after them. Point them to the orphanages that take kids in if only for a night. Like the one Wayne left them. There is plenty of room in the manor, even if parts are restricted. 

John worries about every single one of them. He knows that most of them are tough as nails and just as sharp. Still they're kids. If you can catch one alone, it's easy enough to overpower them. And Gotham eats her young. 

~+~  
The boy leaning against the wall opposite the Batbike looks like he can't be older than twelve.  
“Hmm,” he says, taking a drag of his cigarette. “I wasn't waiting for you, but I guess you'll do.” 

John raises an eyebrow and waits. The boy says nothing. John sighs mentally. He has to keep calm. Kids don't search out vigilantes. Not if they're smart. No one who's smart should do that. John thinks he' one of the saner ones, but the truth is no one who puts on a mask to fight crime at night balancing on the edge between too far, can ever be called sane.  
“You were waiting for Shadow?” John asks, because he has to get this thing started. It's not like he doesn't have something better – more important – to do. Like patrolling the freaking city. 

“Yeah,” the boy answers, exhaling. “Saw him on the bike two days ago.” 

“He borrowed it. It's mine.” 

“Sweet ride,” the boy says. 

“Are you even old enough to smoke?” John asks. 

The boy shrugs. “Is anyone ever?” 

John supposes the answer is no. “What is so important that you're loitering around a vigilante's drive?”

“Right now you aren't the scariest thing in this town,” the boy answers. 

John knows that. “Have you seen something?” 

“Lots of shit, but last night there was a guy following me home,” the boy says. “Felt wrong. I don't get scared easily, ya know?” 

John nods. This one was born and breed on the streets of Gotham, on the wrong side of the tracks. It's in the way he holds himself. It's in the way the red hood is obscuring most of his face. It's in the way he sucks on the cigarette.  
“Did you go to the police?” 

“You're kidding right?” The boy says with a nasty laugh. 

“Can you describe him?” John wants to know. 

“Yeah,” the boy says and does.


	7. Chapter 7

**~six~**  
“Small kid, smart, vicious, pretty mouth,” Nightwing says. 

Barsad gives him a look. “Pretty mouth?” 

“I notice things,” Nightwing answers. “He was smoking.” He shrugs. 

Barsad knows that boy, he would know him anywhere. He smiles, “And that is what he came up with?” He holds the sketch up. 

Nightwing nods. “I’m not the greatest artist, but I think we can at least-”

“Did you check with the Batcomputer?” Barsad interrupts. 

Nightwing nods. “Nothing. Might be a new player in town.” 

“All kinds of people come here-”

“Or stayed here after the Occupation,” Nightwing cuts in. 

Barsad can hear the capitals every time Nightwing says ‘occupation’. Like it was a life altering experience. For a lot of people it probably was. Sure was for Nightwing. Without the occupation he wouldn’t be Nightwing now. 

“Yes, it could be someone who stayed here, but I doubt it,” Barsad says. The men he and Bane picked, were loyal, and they weren’t child-killers. None of them killed for fun. It was all about the cause. 

“You think it’s someone who lived here their whole life, don’t you?” Nightwing asks. 

Barsad nods. “We studied this city and we knew it, but this person really knows it. Like street-kids. He knows where to find them. He knows how to stay undetected.” 

“Except for little red hood, no one had a clue they were being followed,” Nightwing says. 

“That’s what I assume. Little red hood, hmm?” 

Nightwing shrugs. “Mouthy kid in a red hoodie. Didn’t tell me his name, was gone before I could blink.” 

It must have been Jason, Barsad thinks. No other kid he knows would just walk up to a vigilante and tell him something. Vigilantes are feared – no matter if they try to do good. They’re different, they’re crazy to some point, unpredictable, and dangerous. But then Jason thinks he is dangerous too and he probably is.   
“Kid can obviously take care of himself,” Barsad replies. 

“They all think that. But it’s not true. If someone really wants to harm you, he will find a way. Point in case: Talia,” Nightwing says. 

Barsad nods. It’s true enough. She planned this for years. Was driven by the desire to avenge her father and was blind to all the things she could’ve had instead. “Yes.” 

Nightwing looks at him. “I didn’t think you would agree with me.” 

“Why not? I am not blind to people’s faults.” 

“But you still helped to nearly blow up a whole city.” 

“Because this city is rotten. Sometimes you have to cut a plant down to get rid of all the vermin, so the plant can grow stronger and better.” 

“We’re talking innocent people here,” Nightwing says. 

“Don’t you think, that bugs are innocent too? They do what’s in their nature. No one can blame them for it, but still we don’t want them, so we kill them and tell ourselves it’s for the greater good.” 

“You can’t compare bugs to people,” Nightwing says. 

“It’s the same principal, just on a smaller scale,” Barsad replies. He knows that Nightwing won’t ever agree with him on this, but he also knows that Nightwing can see the truth in his statement. He’s just too attached to people to cross the line. It’s not entirely a bad thing. 

“Keep an eye out for that kid,” Nightwing says, ending their conversation, as he gets on his bike. 

“Sure,” Barsad replies. It won’t be a difficult task, at least not during day-hours.   
   
~+~  
Jason is sitting on the steps when Barsad comes home from grocery shopping the next morning. It’s cold again and it looks like rain. Jason only wears the red hoodie. 

“Come on up. I’m making gyros,” he says. 

Jason takes a deep drag and looks up at him. “My mom told me not to take those kind of offers.” 

Barsad doesn’t really believe that. He knows what Jason’s mom does for a living. He knows that she has a habit that is hard to shake. And she doesn’t even want to try. “Can’t offer anything more than a meal and tea,” Barsad says, opening the door to the stairway. 

Jason puts out his cigarette against the wall and nods. “Okay.” He gets up and follows Barsad to his apartment. “What are gyros anyway?” He asks. 

“Meat, you eat it with red rice and tzatziki. At least that’s how my mother used to serve it.” 

“That doesn’t sound very American,” Jason says as they enter the apartment. 

“Because it’s not,” Barsad replies spreading out his groceries on the small kitchen table. Jason takes a chair and watches. Barsad boils water and makes tea, putting a mug in front of Jason. 

“Smells funny,” Jason says, but takes a sip. “But it’s good.” 

“You can help me cut the meat in small pieces,” Barsad says handing Jason a knife and the meat.   
It’s no surprise that Jason can really handle a knife. His cuts are precise and fast. Barsad is sure any other person would find it scary. He’s sure Jason showed off a bit to make him realize how good he is. What kind of damage he could do to a human body, but he is still only a kid. Barsad would have no problems disarming him and pinning him down. He keeps that thought to himself. 

“Anything else that needs cutting?” Jason asks, putting the meat aside. 

“The cucumber, peal it before you cut it,” Barsad answers. 

“Sure thing,” Jason says and starts pealing. 

They prepare dinner in silence. 

~+~  
Jason comes over more often after that and lets Barsad feed him and make him the good tea. It’s kind of domestic – a kind he didn’t have since he left his mother’s home to seek out adventures, to change the world. 

“Oh,” Jason says. “Baklava!” 

Barsad hadn’t made Baklava in years, but it came back easily. It’s not a complicated dessert. “You like it?” 

“I love it,” Jason answers and grabs a plate.   
Barsad wonders where he ate it and when, because his mother doesn’t seem the type for baking or making dinner to be honest. Barsad bets they mostly grab something from a fast food chain.   
“This is really good,” Jason says between bites. “All your cooking is good, except for the Brussels sprouts. They were horrible.” 

“Will keep that in mind.” Funny thing is Nightwing liked them. Even cold. He got a mocking smile for his trouble, but he thinks Nightwing was kind of touched at the gesture. Barsad really doesn’t want for this to blow up in his face.   
   
~+~  
“Another one,” Nightwing says as he hands over the key to the morgue to Barsad without further words. Barsad knows. He’s hacked into the police’s system. 

“The Commissioner gave you this?” 

“It’s a don’t ask, don’t tell kind of thing,” Nightwing replies and then: “Something smells good…I think I’m having hunger- hallucinations.” 

“No, I made Baklava,” Barsad replies, taking the small box out of his car. It’s not really his car. He stole it on the way here. Like he does every time he needs one. 

“Something’s changed. You didn’t use to bring food. It was a tea only deal and it’s not even that cold anymore,” Nightwing says, but takes the box and starts eating. “This is really good.” 

“I need something to do when I’m not stalking the shadows,” Barsad says. 

“No, it’s not only that. You could polish your weapons, or do your laundry or something, but you cook and bake and have leftovers.” 

Barsad doesn’t know if it would be wise to tell Nightwing about Jason. Probably not. It would lead to Nightwing wanting to visit Jason, it would lead to Nightwing finding out who Shadow is. 

“I’m feeding a stray,” he settles on. 

“Fair enough,” Nightwing says, handing him the empty box, but keeping the spoon. Paranoid. It’s a good way to stay alive. “Let me know when you find something we can use to track that monster down.” 

“Of course,” Barsad replies getting in the car. He’s going to do this now. There shouldn’t be any people in the building at this hour. 

“Shadow?” Nightwing asks, holding his helmet between his hands, ready to go. 

“Yes?” 

“Did you see the boy in the red hood?” Nightwing wants to know. 

“Yes. He’s alright,” Barsad answers. 

“Good,” Nightwing replies and puts his helmet on. He’s gone a few seconds later.   
   
~+~  
The morgue is always eerie, but more so after everyone has left the building. Barsad doesn’t like the smell, but he doesn’t mind the silence much.   
He switches on the lights and starts his examination. 

There isn’t that much to find, as the water of Gotham Bay has taken most of the evidence with it. But there are small puncture wounds like on the first boy. No signs of malnutrition or sexual abuse. Small mercies, Barsad thinks. But why take them in the first place? Why keep them alive for weeks and then kill them? It doesn’t make much sense. At least not to Barsad. He only does things that bring him closer to his end goal. 

Murdering children can’t – he takes a step back mentally. He had been prepared to do the same. But for him all people of Gotham were an anonymous mass. This here is personal. The kidnapper knows the children, at least for the time he cares for them, keeps them captive. He forms an attachment and then he kills them. And gets another child from the streets of Gotham and Gotham's streets are full of children.


	8. Chapter 8

**~Seven~**  
“It’s going to be a real case, soon,” Gordon says. There is something in his voice that tells John he wishes it weren’t so. John can sympathize. He doesn’t want a serial killer in Gotham either, especially not one that hunts children down. 

“We’re working on it too. It’s the number one priority case,” John replies. 

“I know,” Gordon says, exhaling smoke. John doesn’t think he’s ever going to stop smoking now. Not after the events of the Occupation. “How good is Shadow?” 

“Better than me,” John answers honestly. 

“He’s different,” Gordon says. John wonders if Gordon has had the pleasure of meeting Shadow. After all Shadow doesn’t like talking to anyone. He doesn’t even give the bad guys a speech or a warning. He just takes them down. He doesn’t make many words. In that regard he’s like Batman. In many ways he’s like Batman, even sometimes in the way he moves or disappears in the shadows. Same fucking school, John thinks fondly. 

“Everyone is,” John replies. 

Gordon nods. “It’s good we have you. You care.” 

“Batman cared,” John feels like he has to say it. Batman died for this city, no matter that Bruce lives. 

“Yes, he did. But differently. You show it.” 

“Shadow is on my case about my tells,” John replies. 

“No, I think it’s a good thing. I’ve known the Batman for more than ten years and I’ve never seen him smile.” 

“He wasn’t the type,” John says. Batman really wasn’t. Everything that was taken from him made him the nightmare he became. And Bruce Wayne was only a mask. He wonders who Bruce, who Batman is now. 

“He wasn’t. You are.” 

John nods. He supposes he is. He doesn’t have to be Batman, he just has to be himself – or Nightwing. John isn’t really sure there is a difference. 

~+~  
The guy the kid described turns out to be just your next door child-molester. John discovers all kinds of incriminating evidence in his apartment. He tips the police off about a break-in – even if he had been the one that did the breaking and entering – and mails Shadow his discovery. It had been dump luck that he found the guy in the first place. Just a night gone right for a change. 

He was following up on a lead in another case, a small one when he saw the man. He matched the description little red hood had given him nearly to a T. So John abandoned his drug smuggler case, he would come back to it another night, and followed the guy instead. He waited outside, hidden in the shadows, patiently until his suspect left the apartment again and broke in. 

“So, it’s not him, but thanks to the kid, you discovered another human being that doesn’t deserve to-”

“Yeah,” John interrupts Shadow, running a hand through his hair and leaning against the wall. “I don’t want to hear it now. The police are searching his place and he will be locked up soon enough. There is enough evidence to find in his apartment and he isn’t a rich guy. He’ll stay locked up too.” 

“You’re frustrated,” Shadow says. 

“Yes, I am. I wished it were him,” John replies. 

“We’ll find him, we will bring him to justice.” 

John doesn’t ask if he means the League’s justice or Batman’s or their own brand of it that they’re just developing. 

“And in the meantime kids are in danger,” John says instead. 

“In this city kids are always in danger. In every city really, Nightwing,” Shadow replies, there is something soft in his voice. “You need to learn to accept the fact that you can’t save everyone. No one can. We can only do so much. And we’re doing more than most people.”  
John knows Shadow is right about this, but he still wants to rescue everyone. But not even Batman could save everyone. A lot of people have died while he was in the Pit. A lot of people have died during the war for Gotham. 

“I know,” John says and hangs up. 

He spends his night hunting down petty thieves and gangbangers and falls into bed at the break of dawn exhausted. He doesn’t dream, or he doesn’t remember if he dreamed.  
   
~+~  
John scans the paper every morning for news of the case, but Gordon keeps it all under wraps. John isn’t sure it’s wise, but then people who care about their kids warn them not to go with strangers and not to stray. They keep an eye on their children all the time – or as much as it’s possible. The others, well, they won’t show more care just because someone is snatching kids of the streets. John knows that and it makes him angry on the behalf of those unwanted children. 

He makes tea and sits down to eat breakfast while he’s pondering what they know so far. The kids had been kept somewhere warm and they had been well feed before they had been killed. No signs of abuse of any kind. They had been strangled, but Shadow thinks they had been drugged first because there had been no signs of a struggle. Nothing about the killer. No hair, no DNA, no nothing. Everything had been washed away by the Gotham River. Which means the killer is smart and controlled. He won’t get sloppy any time soon. 

Batman probably would’ve cracked this case before the second victim, John thinks.  
He knows it’s no use to beat himself up over this, but he can’t help it. Batman set a standard and John isn’t sure he can meet it.  
He drinks his tea and looks out of the window until it’s time to go to the orphanage.  
   
~+~  
John is well known by the kids at the new Wayne orphanage and he thinks that maybe he should make himself a permanent fixture there. It would do good and be a great cover. He’s hanging around here more often than at his apartment anyway. 

“Mister Blake!” Mrs. Drake says with a huge smile. John always thinks her smiles seem fake. Like she doesn’t really want to be here, but it’s her duty to be seen doing good stuff and visiting the poor little lambs. 

“Mrs. Drake,” he replies, “It’s a pleasure.” Great, he thinks, now he’ll have to spend some time chatting with her about the freaking weather. 

“Are you hurt?” A boy asks, looking up from his phone. His gaze is fixed on John’s upper arm where the t-shirt doesn’t cover all of the bandages. 

“Just a scratch, it’s nothing,” John answers. 

“My son, Timothy,” Mrs. Drake introduces. It lacks…well, John thinks, it lacks love, the way she says her son’s name. 

“Pleasure meeting you,” John says offering his hand. 

The boy takes it in a surprisingly firm grip. “Pleasure’s all mine.” 

“Please use proper language, Timothy,” his mother chides. “Boys.” She says with a smile to John. 

John nods. “Want to play basketball with the others while I talk to your mother for a bit?” He asks Timothy. 

“Sure,” he answers. There is something grateful in his eyes for a second before the mask slips over his features again. 

John knows Mrs. Drake has a tiny crush on him, and he just uses that to get her away from her son, so he can be a kid for a while.  
He offers her his arm and she giggles taking it. What he does for the greater good.  
   
~+~  
John doesn’t get much done on that day because Mrs. Drake keeps him away from his case, and it’s not like he can say he has to work. He does some research in the few hours left before patrol. 

“I need a day-job,” John says, blocking another one of Shadows very efficient moves. He is becoming so much better, but so is Shadow. The things he can do are really scary. And John is sure Shadow hasn’t shown him half of it. 

“What for? I’m sure Wayne left you enough money to get by when he left you the cowl,” Shadow replies. Inner circle, John thinks, for sure. The people who knew that Wayne was Batman weren’t that many, but then he had suspected that. Still, he files it away for later. 

“So I have an excuse to be at the manor as often as I am, and so I can tell people to fuck off because I have work to do,” John answers. 

“You can tell them to leave you alone anyway. You’re just too polite to do it, Nightwing,” Shadow says. 

John sometimes wishes Shadow could call him by his real name, but it’s no use, he still takes Shadow's cutlery with him after he eats something Shadow made – better safe than sorry and all that.  
“I’m just not that kind of person.” 

“Wayne was. Threw all his friends – or whatever you might call them in Wayne’s case – out when the League showed up at his party.” 

“That was when the manor was burned down,” John says. 

“You were probably in school back then,” Shadow replies. 

“And you were with the League?” John wants to know. 

Shadow shrugs before he blocks another of John’s attempts to get a nice straight hit. He steps aside fast and John nearly loses his balance with the force of his punch. “Yes.” 

John has so many fucking questions. Like: how old is Shadow? How old had he been when he joined the league, where was he born? Why did he join the League in the first place? Why did he throw his lot in with Bane and Talia? His real name.  
John doesn’t. They aren’t vigilantes for nothing. These things don’t matter when you fight crime. What matters are the skills and the intent you use them for. 

“You could teach the boys defense,” Shadow says after another round of sparing. 

John hands him a water bottle and takes one for himself. This here with Shadow is the closest he has to a social life. It’s kind of sad.  
“Was thinking about working for the orphanage, too. So many birds with one stone. But you’re right the boys need to learn how to defend themselves. Especially now.” 

“You'll be good at it, because you care and you have a strict moral code. You won’t let them use what you teach them to hurt each other.” 

“I won’t,” John says and wonders if that is how the boys in the League learned to survive. It’s another question he doesn’t ask. 

“I have time for another round,” Shadow says. 

“Sure,” John replies.  
   
~+~  
John gets a job as – he has no idea, but he thinks Wayne or possibly Mr. Fox had something to do with it – at the orphanage. He teaches the boys defense classes and trains them in all kinds of sports. It’s fun. There is a suite that comes with the position and John takes it, but he keeps his apartment in the city too. It’s good to have more than one base of operations if there should be a sudden need for a change of clothes or a shower. 

He sees Timothy and groans inwardly. The boy looks around and then hides behind a bush. John smiles. He’s trying to avoid his mother – like John is.  
He throws a small stone at the bush and Timothy looks up sharply in his direction. John waves him to come over. 

“Hiding out?” John asks. 

“Like you,” Timothy answers. 

“Want to hide out in my room?” 

“People have warned me about those kind of offers,” Timothy says, it’s meant as a joke, John knows, but it comes out sharp and a bit cutting. 

“Or we could hide out in the kitchen,” John offers.  
Timothy nods and follows. 

“You didn’t work here the last time my mother made me come visit,” Timothy says, taking a mug of hot chocolate. It’s a million degrees outside, but the kitchen is pleasantly cool. No wonder Alfred likes it so much. 

“I didn’t,” John replies. “Just started a few days ago. Figured I’m hanging out here most of the time anyway, I could also get paid for it.” 

“My mother says Bruce Wayne left you money,” Timothy says. He says it like he knows it’s a fact. Like he looked it up or something. 

“Doesn’t mean I don’t have to work,” John replies. 

“Sure it does. You could do whatever you want, but you’re still here. Helping out at the orphanage he set up…” Timothy says, his tone, _something_ in the way he says it makes it sound like a whole other set of questions. 

“I like helping people. I was a cop before the Occupation,” John replies.

“I know.” 

“Your mother told you?” John asks.  

“Yes,” Timothy answers and takes another sip of his hot chocolate. 

Timothy Drake is a sharp fucking kid, he thinks, even if he came to the wrong conclusions, but then he doesn’t know Wayne was Batman, and without that little piece of information it could look like he and Wayne were lovers. In secret. John smiles. If Wayne had made any indication he had been interested John would have. He has no illusions about his desires. And he has had a crush on Wayne since the first time he had seen him and he had just known he was Batman, that they were the same, or at least similar. 

John is torn between telling him he’s wrong and not telling him. It’s easier he supposes when people think that he and Wayne were lovers in the privacy of their heads. What better explanation could he come up with? And that way he doesn’t have to lie to anyone. And besides, it’s not like people are treating him differently and Timothy sure as hell isn’t going to gossip. He doesn’t seem the type. Maybe it’s not a big deal anymore because everyone thinks Wayne is dead and you don’t speak badly about the dead, especially when the person in question was Gotham’s first son.


	9. Chapter 9

**~eight~**  
Sometimes Barsad can see how Nightwing’s mind works, see the dots connect. He has no idea what has triggered the realization. Maybe it wasn’t even anything he’s done tonight. He must have been connecting the dots in the back of his head while he’s been working on all the other cases as well.  
Nightwing shoves hard and balls his hands to fists. Barsad stays down and away from him. Nightwing isn’t known for lashing out, but he has a temper and sometimes Barsad can see how he holds it in check – like now. 

“You’re Bane’s first in command,” he says. 

“Was. I was Bane’s first in command,” Barsad replies. 

“I thought you were dead,” Nightwing says. His hands are clenching and unclenching at his sides. 

“I let people think that. Otherwise I would most likely be in prison by now,” Barsad replies. And who would keep the city clean? Who would hunt scum in the shadows? Nightwing? He is only as good as he is because Barsad trained him. And Nightwing knows it. 

“Why did you stay here? It can’t possibly be because you saw the fucking error of your ways!” And there it is that infamous temper, Barsad thinks. 

“I had no place to go and- ” he stops. The truth is it just kind of happened. The whole vigilante thing. He had never wanted to be a crime-fighter. He had just used his skills the first time without really thinking about it and had discovered that he liked to figure things out, and then Nightwing had stepped into his path and things had changed. 

“WHAT?” 

“I like doing this,” he answers. 

“You like doing this? Helping people?” 

“I don’t think people deserve it here – much. But there are exceptions.” Jason, he thinks. Jason deserves to be saved. Deserves to be living in a better city and Barsad does what he can to make that happen. 

“You didn’t have exceptions during the Occupation,” Nightwing counters. 

“I had orders and a cause. I do believe that sometimes you have to burn something down to rebuild it better.” 

“And the people are just collateral damage then.” It’s not a question. 

Barsad nods. “These good people of Gotham? They let this happen. By looking away. By taking the hush-money. By neglecting their children…in another million tiny ways.” 

Nightwing sighs. “Fuck.” He runs a hand through his hair and closes his eyes. He looks strangely vulnerable that way. Barsad things it might be the suit. In that position Nightwing’s throat is exposed. Batman’s never was. “Fuck,” he says again. 

Barsad wonders what will happen now. Most likely they will work together at least until the child-murderer is caught. And then Nightwing will probably hand him over to Gordon, but by then Barsad will be long gone. A guy like him will always be needed.  
“What will you do now?” He asks. 

“What I should do is contact Gordon and have your ass arrested, but that won’t happen, will it?” 

“I’m still better in hand to hand combat than you,” Barsad answers. 

Nightwing nods. “Thought so. And I need your skills to find the serial-killer that is running around the city.” 

“And after that, will you chase me out of your city by dawn?” Barsad asks. 

“Don’t fucking joke about this! I trusted you!” 

“You knew I was trained by the League. You knew I was trained very well by the League. You knew I knew about Wayne, John,” Barsad says, because he had figured that one out too. Nightwing’s eyes snap to him. “You knew who I was.” 

“Maybe. Maybe I didn’t want to know who you are. It was easier to pretend you were just a guy-”

“It’s the fact that I was so close to Bane,” Barsad cuts in.  

“You were handpicked by him,” John says.

“You were handpicked by Batman.”

“There was no one else he could’ve left the cowl to,” John replies. 

Possibly, Barsad thinks, but he chose to leave it to John Blake. “He could’ve burned it all, John.”  
John looks surprised at that. The thought had never even crossed his mind. “He faked his own death, he blew up the Bat-” 

“Mr. Fox is working on it,” John cuts in. 

“He could’ve just left and leave the city to it. But he left and gave the city to you, because you care and because he thinks you’re worthy of his trust and his legacy,” Barsad finishes. 

Nightwing nods.  
   
~+~  
“You look…uhm…beat, B,” Jason says between wolfing down his dinner. 

“I had a fight with someone,” Barsad replies. 

“A girlfriend?” Jason asks. 

“No,” Barsad answers. He hasn’t even thought about dating someone. He doesn’t have the time. 

“Boyfriend? You know it’s cool, I don’t judge or care,” Jason says. 

Barsad looks at him. “Eat your dinner.” 

“Fine, be mysterious,” Jason huffs. It makes Barsad want to ruffle his hair. That’s what you get for being kind to strangers. You get attached to street-kids. He is pretty sure John won’t throw him out or report him to Gordon, but still.  
“So, that friend of yours, is he the one who gave you the bruises?” Jason asks after he finishes his dinner. 

“Yes,” Barsad answers. 

“Hmm…”

“We spar. Accidents happen,” Barsad says. It’s the truth too. A part of the truth. 

“You any good?” Jason asks, playing with the hem of his red hoodie. 

“I think so,” Barsad answers. 

“Can you teach me?” Jason asks, not looking up at him. Barsad has figured out that Jason doesn’t like to have to ask for help and when he does, well, it warms him and makes him worry. 

“I’ve seen you fight,” Barsad says carefully. It’s completely adequate for the fights the kid gets into. 

“It’s okay for when I have to make a point with the other kids,” Jason says and really, he doesn’t need to say more. He’s helpless against whoever is bigger and meaner than him and with the company his mother keeps there are a few men Barsad would love to see in prison – or the hospital. 

He should really clean up this part of town, or let Nightwing do it, so no one would suspect him. The question is will Nightwing do what needs to be done? A few broken fingers would certainly get the message across better than just a few bruises.  
“Sure, I can teach you a few things,” Barsad says and hands over the chocolate bars. 

Jason nods – the thank you is implied.  
   
~+~  
When Barsad isn’t patrolling the city these days, he’s working on the Case, or feeding and training Jason. He still meets up with Nightwing, but they aren’t talking much about anything besides the Case. Barsad knows Nightwing is getting frustrated with the situation and that he is also comparing himself, still, to Batman. It’s unhealthy behavior. 

“Still didn’t make up with your friend, hmm?” Jason asks. He’s panting, but he is in better shape than most teenagers, Barsad decides. 

“Not really.” 

“He’s pretty much your only friend, right?” Jason asks, repeating the move Barsad showed him today. 

“There is you, of course,” Barsad replies. 

“I’m only using you for your cooking and fighting skills,” Jason says. 

“That is okay, I’m using you for your company. That’s how friendships work.” 

“I hear sometimes people just hang out. Without having an agenda,” Jason says. 

Barsad looks at him. “Do you want to just hang out?” 

Jason shrugs. “I wouldn’t mind.” 

Barsad hasn’t hung out since… well, he doesn’t know if the midnight meetings and sharing of tea and food with Nightwing is their version of hanging out. Probably.  
“What do you want to do?” 

“Go to the movies, or down to the bay, or something,” Jason shrugs again. 

Barsad suspects that Jason mother doesn’t take him to the movies or to the bay or to picnics. She pretty much doesn’t do anything with Jason. After all Jason is eating dinner at Barsad’s apartment nearly every evening and not once did Mrs. Todd show up to pick him up or meet the man her teenage boy is spending daily time with. In this part of town such an arrangement could mean anything. He wonders if Jason had been anticipating something like that, some favors, when he first came up to Barsad’s apartment. Probably, but he doesn’t ask, because he doesn’t want to know for sure.  
“We can go to the movies,” Barsad says. 

Jason lights up, but keeps repeating his katas. “Cool.”


	10. Chapter 10

**~nine~**  
Timothy comes over to the orphanage on the weekends. He doesn’t really play with the other boys and they leave him mostly alone, sensing that he is not their kind. After all, Timothy Drake has parents even if they aren’t around much.   
John wonders why he comes at all, but he doesn’t mind the company. What he does mind a bit are the pointed questions and looks. 

“You could just ask if you can play ball with the other boys,” John says. 

“I am not really a team-player,” Tim replies. 

“I see,” John says. “So, why do you come?”

“I like it here. I used to come with my parents to the fancy parties Bruce Wayne threw from time to time. Never thought the manor would be open for everyone like this one day.” 

“I think he would like it. All the children playing and running around on the grounds and in the manor. I know Alfred loves it when he’s here.” 

“Must have been lonely after his parents died,” Tim says. 

“He had Alfred.”

“You knew him well?” Tim asks, sipping his tea. 

“Alfred? Or Bruce Wayne?” John asks teasingly. 

“Both I guess.” 

“Not as well as I would have liked, but yes. I knew him,” John answers. He knew Wayne, because they are alike. 

“But he left you a fortune,” Tim persists. 

“It’s really not that much money. I am still working, am I not?”

“You could be working for fun. You used to be a cop. Doing good is in your nature,” Tim answers. 

The kid is right, but John isn’t going to encourage him to dig deeper into his private life. “What do you want to ask, Tim?”   
Tim looks at him and John realizes that it’s the first time he actually called Timothy Drake, Tim. He’s been doing it in his head all the time, but never to Timothy’s face. 

“No one calls me that,” Tim says. 

“Oh, sorry.”

“No, I like it. It’s nice,” Tim replies with a small smile. 

“Okay.” John really wonders about Tim’s parents. They probably never called him Timmy either when he was a toddler. 

“Where you in love with Bruce Wayne?” Tim asks after a while resuming their conversation. 

“Yes, since the first time I saw him,” John answers, because this is easy and not a lie. 

“When?” 

“I was pretty much a kid back then. Maybe your age. I didn’t realize it at the time of course, but something about him-”

“Called to you,” Tim finishes and bites his lip. 

“Yes,” John replies. They drink their tea in silence.   
   
~+~  
To see Barsad out at daytime is really something, unexpected. 

“Blake,” Barsad says coming closer. 

John is tempted to look around, but he knows it’s him Barsad wants to talk to. He’s shaven and doesn’t look at all like the guy he saw standing beside Bane on TV. Doesn’t look like Shadow either. Even the way he moves now is different. He seems normal. And he has a kid in tow. John wonders what that is all about. Barsad knows of course that John is working at the orphanage and he knows about the connection to Wayne and that John can pull so many freaking strings right now, but still.   
“Barsad,” John replies and doesn’t ask what the hell he’s doing here. “Hi, didn’t expect you, today.” Or ever, and here of all places. 

“This the guy you’re fighting with?” The boy asks. He’s mostly street-bravado, but John can see that he has had some training. He gives Barsad a look. 

Barsad shrugs. They really need to talk about this, but then John is teaching the boys at the orphanage how to defend themselves too. But John isn’t a former League member and terrorist.   
“Yes,” Barsad says. 

“And you are?” John asks. 

“Jason,” the boy answers and doesn’t offer his hand. 

“So, what are you doing here?” John asks. 

“Picnic, this is a public area and it’s safer than any of the parks in Gotham,” Barsad answers. He holds up a bag as to prove his point. 

“Did you make Baklava?” John asks, before he can think about it. 

“Yes,” Barsad answers and John can hear the smile in his voice. 

“We have ice-cream in the fridge…” 

“We’re going to spread out under that oak tree. Hurry up,” Barsad says. 

John nods. 

~+~  
Barsad brings Jason over on the weekends. The kid is hesitant at first and he doesn’t play well with the other children, but he seems okay when he can run or join in on the self-defense training. As it’s warm now, they do their katas and running outside. 

“It’s different from what Barsad teaches,” Jason says one Friday afternoon. 

“I know.”

“But you move similar to him,” Tim throws in. John hadn’t even known, he had been here and watching. 

Jason gives Tim a look and then concentrates on John again. “Friend of yours?”

“Yes,” John says, because he thinks he and Tim are friends. Or on their way there. There is something about Tim that reminds him of Bruce, which is super disturbing, but also gives John hope for the human race in general. 

“I train with Barsad,” John says to Tim. 

Tim nods. “Makes sense.” He has his thinking face on. Like he’s seen something before and he just can’t remember where. John really needs to distract the kid. 

“Want to try it?” He asks Tim. 

“Try what?” Tim wants to know. 

“Some of the fancy moves B can do,” Jason says. 

Tim doesn’t glare. “I’m not really good at sports.” 

“Why am I not surprised,” Jason says and gets up from his place on the grass. “Bet you could use to know a few moves to defend yourself. You look like the kind that gets shoved around a lot. Jesus, just looking at you makes my fingers itch to shove you against the nearest tree.” 

“That’s not the kind of school I go to,” Tim replies. 

“All schools are the same in that regard,” Jason says. John thinks he might have a point. After all Tim rarely wears short-sleeved shirts. Most likely so his parents don’t see the bruises. “You should take up Blake here on his offer. It’s not like you have anything better to do – what with you hanging around here anyway.” 

Tim puts his books aside and takes his shirt off. And there are a few faint bruises on his arms that John notices. “Fine,” he says.

And that’s how John gets two more students for his defense class.   

~+~  
“Picking up kids now?” John asks after they delivered a few drug-dealers at the nearest police-station. 

“I could say that back,” Shadow answers. It’s still hard for John to call him Barsad when he’s wearing the mask and suit. John wonders how good Shadow’s suit is,after all Barsad doesn’t have access to Wayne technology like he does. Maybe John should ask Mr. Fox if he could redo one of the spares for Shadow, now that they are on the same side and all. 

“I’m not teaching them…whatever you are teaching Jason. And he is that smart-ass kid that tipped me off, I knew I saw him somewhere,” John says as he realizes it. 

“He lives on my street. His mother isn’t around much,” Shadow replies. 

That could mean a number of things, but most likely that she doesn’t care who her underage son is hanging out with and what he does with strange men.   
“He looks better than the last time I saw him. Healthier.” 

“He’s working out.”

“And you’re feeding him,” John says. 

Shadow nods. “He seems to like my cooking.” 

“It’s pretty good,” John says and doesn’t comment on how Barsad obviously cares for the little red hood. Or that John loves his cooking too. 

“Thank you Nightwing,” Shadow replies. 

And now John feels kind of awkward. Great. “Need to go home to the wife and kids, or do you have a few more hours to patrol the streets?” He asks. 

Shadow smiles and starts running to the bikes they had parked in a shady alley. John really needs to talk to Mr. Fox. He knows Shadow steals whatever vehicle he needs that particular night. He doesn’t have his own ride and that could be a problem.   
John is pretty much ready to share the Batcave with Shadow. After all it’s big enough.   
   
~+~  
When Tim gets taken, the first thing John thinks is that it’s a kidnapping for ransom money. But the demand never comes, and suddenly he knows why the killer picked the kids they picked. 

“Well cared for and no signs of struggle, right?” John ticks off. 

“Yes,” Barsad answers. 

“Rich kids and poor, but more poor kids. But it doesn’t have anything to do with the money,” John says. He’s sure of it now. His gut is rarely wrong. 

“I’m listening,” Barsad replies. 

“It’s about love,” John finishes. Barsad stares at him for a few seconds and John waits for him to connect the dots from his point of view. 

“Timothy Drake’s parents didn’t care much. They left him alone. They didn’t show him love,” Barsad says carefully. 

“Yes!” John replies. Now that they have a motive, they can…he has no idea, but it’s something and they need to work fast. John likes Timothy and they still don’t know what triggers the killing. It could be any number of things. From bad behavior to not enough rooms. 

“That is how they chose their victims, but how do they know? For sure?” 

“Good question,” John answers. He has no idea yet. And this is such a subjective motive. After all love and affection can be shown in so many different ways. Every family is different in that regard. 

“I will do some research and cross-referencing with that pattern.” 

“No patrolling for you tonight?” Barsad asks. 

“No, I need to catch him before he kills again.” 

“Or she. It could be a woman,” Barsad replies. 

“Or she.”


	11. Chapter 11

**~ten~**  
Barsad worries about John. Nightwing is buried in his Cave for two days now. Barsad hasn’t seen him since he had figured out the killer’s motive.   
Barsad has been patrolling the streets, delivering criminals to police stations, and avoiding getting caught on camera again. Seems every ten year old has a camera phone these days. It’s hard to stay undetected.   
He’s just throwing his suit on the floor when his phone rings. He sighs in relief. Only John has this number.   
It’s not John. 

“Mr. Shadow?” A male voice asks. 

“Depends on who is speaking and how you got this number,” Barsad replies in his best ‘I can kill you in ways you can’t even imagine’ voice. 

The man on the other side of the line doesn’t seem fazed. “Our mutual friend, Nightwing, told me you’re in need of a new suit and maybe a vehicle?” 

“You want to sell me a car?” Barsad asks, sitting down on his worn couch. He’s so tired. The kidnapping, the worrying about John, the work with the police. Jason. It all takes its toll on him and his body. And he doesn’t sleep enough since he’s been patrolling alone. 

“I’m not selling you anything. It would be a gift. And maybe car isn’t the right word,” Mr. Fox says.   
It can only be Mr. Fox. He is the genius who supplied Batman with his toys after all. Barsad is sure John set Mr. Fox up to it. Who else? So, John thinks he needs a better suit, which is true. He does. His is too heavy for all the jumping he’s doing. And it’s worse when it rains, and it seems that it’s constantly raining in Gotham now. 

“I’m taking the suit,” he replies. 

“What about the vehicle?” Mr. Fox asks. 

Barsad thinks Mr. Fox has way too much fun designing vigilante toys than a man his age should have, but who is he to judge? He is the one jumping from rooftops and beating up criminals.   
“I don’t need a vehicle. I can always just get whatever I’ll need.” 

“Ah,” Mr. Fox says. “You don’t want to be tied down.” 

Possibly, Barsad thinks. And he lives in a rundown one room apartment with no garage. There is no way to store the thing. And it wouldn’t be practical to have it in the Cave when he’s mostly working his district.   
“When do you have time to meet up?” Barsad asks, ignoring what Mr. Fox said. 

“I’m flexible. You are the one with the hectic schedule, Mr. Shadow,” Mr. Fox answers. 

“I’ll get off in the morning hours and then I sleep. Let’s say five, your working place?” 

“I’m looking forward to it.”

“Likewise,” Barsad answers and hangs up. He actually means it too.    
   
~+~  
Jason is waiting on the stairs for him when he leaves the building to meet up with Mr. Fox. It’s still light outside, but the evening chill is setting in. Jason’s smoking his third cigarette already, measured by the butts littering the stairs, and his hood is up which is never a good sign. 

“Jason,” Barsad says gently. 

“Hey, so? What ya make?” Jason asks, getting up. He’s not looking directly at Barsad and Barsad knows he’s been in a fight with someone stronger and meaner than he is. Children hardly ever stand a chance against an adult. It’s not only the strength and size. It’s something far more primal. 

“Nothing yet. I have a meeting and I wasn’t expecting you so early.” 

“That’s cool,” Jason says shrugging. 

Barsad thinks for a second and then makes up his mind. “You can come with. I bet we can find a restaurant close by that you can wait in.” 

“Nah…” Jason says. “I’ll wait here.” 

“You really don’t need to-”

“I said it’s fine,” Jason interrupts. 

“At least wait inside,” Barsad says, handing him the key to his apartment. 

“Okay.” 

“There is ice-cream in the freezer.” 

“Okay,” Jason repeats, clenching his fist around the key. 

Barsad doesn’t leave the suit lying around – or the weapons, so he thinks it should be fine. None of that stuff is in the apartment. He’s wearing the suit under his street clothes anyway right now.   
“Hey, Jason.”

“Yeah?” Jason asks. 

“What do you want for dinner?” Barsad asks. 

“Uhm…that gyros stuff was pretty good,” Jason answers. 

Barsad nods and doesn’t smile, because it could freak Jason out. He starts walking until he finds a car that suits his purpose.   
   
~+~  
Mr. Fox shakes his hand like they’re friends and not like the League didn’t try to kill him. Maybe John didn’t tell him everything. 

“Mr. Shadow,” he says. “Please come in.” 

“Mr. Fox,” Barsad replies, following him into the work-space. It’s huge and there are several vehicles in different states of build. 

“Are you sure you only want a suit?”

“Two would be good, so I’ll have a spare one,” Barsad replies. 

Mr. Fox smiles and starts working.   
   
~+~  
Barsad prevents two muggings on his way home and buys groceries. When he enters the apartment, Jason is sleeping on his couch, an empty bowl of ice-cream beside him on the floor. Barsad doesn’t wake him as he prepares dinner. 

He stirs when the meat begins to fry. “You’re back,” he says, rubbing at his eyes. “I ate all your ice-cream.”

“It’s fine I can buy more,” Barsad replies. 

“And you already cut all the meat. Seriously, you didn’t leave me anything.”

“You can cut the cucumber.”  

“Meat is more fun,” Jason says, getting up. 

“Why?” Barsad asks. 

Jason shrugs. “It just is.” 

“Because you’re thinking about it being someone else? Someone who gave you those bruises?” Barsad asks. He doesn’t try for gentle. It wouldn’t go over well with Jason. 

“Yeah,” Jason admits. 

Barsad nods. “Next time I’ll make lime-chicken, you can cut it.” 

“Thanks.” 

~+~  
Barsad drops by the Cave unannounced by day five, because he still hasn’t heard from John. And he has had to deal with Gordon. That had not been fun for anyone involved. It’s clear that Gordon doesn’t trust Shadow. Probably because he isn’t the chosen heir. 

“John,” Barsad says and John looks up from the computer and at him. He looks a bit startled. He clearly hasn’t heard Barsad enter. This is not a good sign. 

“What are you doing here?” 

“What are you doing here?” Barsad asks. 

“Working. On the Case.” 

Barsad can hear the capitals on that one. It is an important case. He is working on it too, between taking care of all the other stuff that is going on in Gotham and his own life. “You’re exhausted. You didn’t even hear me coming in.” 

“I need to find him,” John replies harshly. 

“And we will,” Barsad says. 

“Alive,” John stresses, running a hand over his neck. He looks really tired and vulnerable right now. Like a kid that realizes this isn’t the game he signed up for. During the occupation John was able to save mostly everyone he cared for. Especially the children, but this is not the case here. They have two small bodies and the next one could be Timothy Drake’s. Barsad would probably handle the situation similar if it were Jason who was in danger. But it’s not Jason and it doesn’t help anyone when John works himself into the ground. 

“Did you check the schools?” Barsad asks, stepping closer. 

“Yes. Nothing. No one who worked at all the schools the kids were taken.” 

“Doctors? School-nurses?” 

“Nothing.” 

“Psychologist? Councilors?” Barsad asks. 

“Nothing and nothing. It’s so damn frustrating,” John answers. 

“Let me look at all the data and get some sleep.” 

“I don’t need sleep!” John explodes. 

“Yes, you do. I know that you have a defense class in five hours, John. These kids need you too.” 

“Tim needs me more. He is in real danger,” John argues. 

“And you think you will be of much help to him in your condition?” 

“Batman could do it!” 

“You are not Batman, John. You need to accept it. His strengths aren’t yours,” Barsad replies in his no nonsense voice. At least Jason likes to call it that. It’s his ‘I am the leader and you do what I told you to do’ voice. It always worked on his men. It works on Jason, and to his surprise it works on John. 

“Fine. But I’ll be down here after class is over,” John says. 

“Of course,” Barsad replies and sits down in the chair. 

~+~  
He spends hours going through the files again. He hasn’t looked at them in three days. At least not those John has. He has his own files and conclusions that are going nowhere. The crucial point is to find a connection between the taken kids. One person, one activity and the case will be pretty much solved.   
They have eliminated all the usual suspects and came up empty handed. John is right this is frustrating as hell. He has never had to deal with things like this before. 

He gets up and stretches. He needs to walk, be on the grounds. Breathe some fresh air, for Lord’s sake. He hated being in the sewers. He hates being in the Cave too. He could never work here for days. It’s depressing.   
He goes outside just in time to watch John teach his class and suddenly it hits him. He takes a breath and goes down to the Cave to leave John a note and then goes to check up on his theory.   
There are other places than schools and whatever parents think their kids should be doing during their free time. Kids always make their own fun. Especially for those whose parents don’t really care. Or only pretend to. 

Jason is sitting on the stairs when Barsad comes home. He had hoped that would be the case.   
“I have a favor to ask,” Barsad says. 

“Shoot,” Jason replies, lightning a smoke. 

“Where do kids hang out these days? When they want to get away from their parents? Or life in general.”

Jason gives him a look. “Didn’t think-”

“It’s important, Jason. I need to know where kids with problems go.” 

“Hanging out on the street…” 

Barsad just knows Jason is lying, or just avoiding, misleading, he decides. Jason is misleading. Barsad can’t blame him. They know each other just a few months and it’s not like they’re… whatever. Barsad has secrets too, but his secrets don’t kill innocent people.   
“Jason!” 

“The park. The small one. Where the rich people live,” Jason says angrily. 

“Thank you. Are they talking to someone there?” 

Jason shifts. “Why do you want to know?” 

“Because kids are missing, Jason, and I am trying to help find Timothy Drake.” 

Jason looks at him then. His eyes sharp. “The small, rich kid we met at the manor. He’s missing?”

“It was on the news.”

“I only watch cartoons and zombie movies,” Jason shrugs. 

“John is worried,” Barsad says. 

“There is this guy, he’s listening. Okay? He just listens and it’s good to know someone just listens for a while.” 

“Does he have a name?” 

“The kids call him Johnny. He makes paper birds…” Jason says, getting one out of his pocket. It’s crumbled and has smears. Barsad takes and unfolds it. It looks like a part of a patient file. 

“I’m keeping this,” he says grabbing his jacket. 

“Where are you going?” Jason wants to know. 

“The manor,” Barsad answers.


	12. Chapter 12

**~eleven~**  
John is very aware of Barsad watching him as he scans the paper for prints and whatever else there might be on it to help them find this Johnny guy. 

“It’s a paper-crane,” Barsad says. 

“I know,” John replies. “It’s not Crane's modus operandi. He lives on fear.” 

“He’s crazy,” Barsad says, taking a sip of his tea. 

“The prints don’t match Crane’s,” John says. Somehow he’s glad it’s not Crane. Crane might be crazy, but he’s never killed a kid before. Hasn’t actively killed anyone, actually. 

“Who do they match?” Barsad wants to know. 

“A dead man,” John answers. 

“Well, that doesn’t say much these days,” Barsad says. John nearly smiles. 

“He had been one of Crane’s patients however. He might be as crazy as they come. No telling what he will do once we find his hideout,” John replies, turning to face Barsad fully.  

“So we must be very careful. We know where he likes to hang out.”

“Where he finds his victims,” John says. 

Barsad nods. “That too. We could grab him and take him in. Make him talk.” 

“I need the patient files first. The problem is of course, that there isn’t much left of that after the Occupation,” John replies. And Batman didn’t have files on all of Crane’s victims. This one is a footnote so to speak. He is only in the system because he tried to steal candy from a drug-store. 

“You need to talk to Gordon. He doesn’t like me, or I would do it myself,” Barsad says. 

“I didn’t think you cared,” John counters. 

“I don’t, but he lets you get away with more stuff, and I have a feeling we will need that,” Barsad replies. 

John nods, Barsad might be right about this. “I’ll check in with him this evening.” 

“Meet you at the rooftop around ten?” Barsad asks. 

“Yeah.”   
   
~+~  
Barsad is wearing the new Shadow suit. It fits him better. Is slick and fits like a glove. It’s lighter than the Batman suit, but not as light as John’s own. Seems Barsad can wear the heavy metal. There is no cowl, but a small hood. 

“Mr. Fox thought it was a good idea, since I’m walking around in the rain so much. It doesn’t interfere in combat. It isn’t easy to grab either.” 

“I don’t get why you don’t want at least a bike,” John says. 

“Where would I store it?”

“The Cave,” John answers. He’s thought about sharing it. He’s been sharing it the last few days with Barsad as they have worked on the Case. It has been okay. John could get used to it. 

“Not practical at all. I patrol mostly close to my neighborhood, and I don’t have the space to store away a fancy vigilante bike.” 

John wonders how Barsad pays for that shitty apartment he’s living in, his groceries, his cigarettes. And weapons.   
“You don’t have a job,” John says. 

“I get by. And no you don’t want to ask that question, Nightwing,” Barsad says. 

The answer to that question would probably be: the guys I beat some sense into. Barsad is right it’s better not to know for sure. And it’s not like anyone would go to the police or try to sue for compensation or something. John is also sure Barsad only steals from those who can afford it. He’s not a bad guy after all, but he needs to keep a low profile.   
“Do you need papers?” John asks, because it has just occurred to him. He knows Wayne knew people. Their contacts are still there. John has the money to pay them. 

“I’m good,” Barsad says. “There is one thing, however, you can do for me.” 

“Okay?” 

“You have some nice, small fancy trackers, right?” Barsad asks. John is sure Barsad could get his own, but he also knows Batman’s are the best you can get. 

“Yes.”

“I want to put one on Jason. Just in case,” Barsad replies. 

“Okay,” John says. “We can get it now or after patrol.” 

“We can get it after,” Barsad replies.   
   
~+~  
It’s different hunting down scum, patrolling, with Shadow. John wonders why Batman never thought of a partner for his nightly activities. It’s not only work that way, it’s also fun. Maybe it shouldn’t, but then a city shouldn’t need a vigilante in the first place. 

The night is relatively quiet and John waves Shadow over, stopping on one of their R-points. “Call it a night?” He asks. He’s still feeling tired. The weariness he hadn’t allowed himself to feel setting in now. 

“It seems quite enough,” Barsad agrees. 

“You want to steal a ride or…?” John lets the question hanging. 

“You can drive me to the Cave,” Barsad says. “I parked there.” 

John smiles and jumps from the rooftop. Shadow follows smoothly. This part, it’s like playing tag, he thinks. This part is what makes it fun.   
When John lands smoothly in front of his bike, Shadow is already leaning against it. John grins. “There is a short-cut?” 

“No, I’m just faster than you are,” Barsad answers, but he’s smiling too. 

John grabs his helmet and fishes one out for Barsad, handing it over. “One day I want to race you.” 

“Sure, but with normal bikes,” Barsad replies, climbing after him. His arms are tight around John’s middle and John can feel how warm Barsad’s body is. He has a mad second in which he thinks it would be a good idea to lean into that solid, warm flesh at his back, but it disappears as soon as it appears. 

“Hold on tight,” he says and starts the engine. 

~+~  
John hands the tracking device over and nods as Barsad says his thanks and goodbyes. He stretches, strips out of the suit, showers, dresses, and goes upstairs. He feels better now that they have a lead. He’s itching to go over to the park now, but knows it would not make much sense. A search for Johnny wouldn’t make sense either, as they don’t know where he lives or what name he goes by now.   
The only option is to wait for tomorrow. In the afternoon he can take a few of the boys to the park and check it out. Unassuming teacher by day has its perks. He is not too thrilled to use the boys as cover, but he doesn’t think any of them would be in any real danger. They have a home here and at least those who attend his defense class, also have someone to talk to and wouldn’t fall for some guy who makes origami on a park-bench and listens. It makes John angry thinking about how this Johnny befriends these kids to spy on them and then so…what? Save them? Is this his idea of rescuing them? John knows he shouldn’t even try to understand this guy’s mental state of mind. Because some people’s motives aren’t comprehensible. He just can’t help himself. He wonders if Tim knew, or somehow suspected this guy. Tim is a smart kid after all. Maybe he had wanted to help, maybe John really needs to stop thinking and try to sleep for a change.


	13. Chapter 13

**~twelve~**  
If he still had been in the League he would have just handed the tracker over and tell the boy to wear it at all times, but he isn’t in the League anymore, there is no League anymore, and he has to be sneakier about it.   
The problem is Jason doesn’t even have a cell-phone Barsad could bug. So he buys a small, inexpensive mp3 player and bugs that. 

“What’s that?” Jason asks as he sits down at the table. 

“A gift,” Barsad replies. 

“You made up with that friend of yours?” Jason wants to know. He’s drumming his fingers against the table top. He’s bouncy today. Like something good happened. 

“In fact I did, but this is for you,” Barsad answers. 

“It’s not my birthday,” Jason says. 

Barsad knows that because he had hacked into the hospital records, just so he knows Jason is okay and healthy. Jason should probably be checked out anyway. Barsad knows his mother only drags him to the hospital when it’s something really serious – like cracked ribs or a broken finger. The fact that Jason has been abused is made very clear by the hospital records Barsad found. By who isn’t, but Barsad thinks it has been one of his mother’s boyfriends/pimps. Like the scumbag she’s seeing now. At least Jason is spending most of his time at Barsad’s apartment now. Where he can have an eye on Jason.   
“You didn’t tell my when your birthday is.” 

“Why are you buying me stuff?” He asks, a note of suspicion creeping into his voice. 

“I saw it, I could afford it, I thought you would like it. That is how this works Jason. You see something that makes you think of a certain person and you buy it for them.” 

“But-” 

“There doesn’t need to be a special occasion. Sometimes a gift is just so you know someone else is glad to have you in your life,” Barsad interrupts, he isn’t looking at Jason. He has his back to the boy in fact. It’s easier for Jason to deal with feelings that way. Barsad is sure he never really learned how to express or accept them. 

“Thanks,” Jason says even before he has opened the small package. 

“You’re welcome.”   
   
~+~  
Jason does not go anywhere without the thing now as Barsad knew he wouldn’t. Jason likes music, and an astonishing variety at that. He listens to nearly anything at least once. Even some classic. Barsad knows because he downloads lots of stuff with Barsad’s laptop. He pays for it too, at least when he gets his music legally, which isn’t always the case. Barsad isn’t worried. His internet connection can only be tracked down by men who know better than to try.   
Barsad knows where Jason is at all times and he feels better knowing that he has some control over the whole thing.   
   
~+~  
“Was in the park with the kids today,” John says as Barsad picks up the phone. 

“Did you have a nice day?” Barsad asks and John laughs. 

“Yes, dear,” he answers. “The kids liked it. I think it would be good to do more field-trips.” 

“Hmmm…” Barsad says. 

“But that wasn’t why I was there.”

“Of course not,” Barsad replies. 

“I saw this Johnny guy, sitting there, talking to kids and making paper-birds. Seems like a normal guy-”

“Except that we know better,” Barsad interrupts. His fingers are itching, he wants to beat that Johnny up and demand the location of the children.

“Couldn’t get close enough to plant a tracker on him,” John says. He sounds frustrated. “Couldn’t follow him either.”

“Because you had the kids,” Barsad replies. 

“Yes. But maybe you could-”

“Tomorrow.” Barsad says and hangs up. He needs to think. Make a plan. John is sure Johnny is their guy and Barsad believes him.   
   
~+~  
“Jason,” he says, handing Jason more Baklava.

“Okay, spit it out,” Jason says, but he takes the dessert anyway. 

“When you told me about that Johnny guy-”

“You want to know if I think he’s fishy?” Jason interrupts. 

Barsad nods. “Yes.” 

“What exactly is your deal? Because I know you’re not a cop. But this Blake guy is and I know he’s working on the Drake case.” He takes a bite of Baklava and doesn’t look at Barsad. 

“Is he fishy?” Barsad asks, ignoring Jason's conclusions. 

Jason nods. “Seems nice enough at first.”

“But?” 

“He pries,” Jason answers shrugging. 

Yes, Barsad thinks, Jason would find that fishy. He doesn’t trust people easily, or at all, and someone who pries would raise all kinds of red flags. He wants to tell Jason to stay away from that guy, but he doesn’t have to. Jason is here or at school (sometimes) or loitering around the block. There is really no need to worry. Barsad worries anyway – at least as long as they don’t find the other kids and have Johnny…what? Behind bars? Back in Arkham? He’ll cross that bridge when he gets to it. 

“I have a meeting today, so I’ll have to throw you out earlier than usually,” Barsad says. 

“Okay…” Jason replies, but something in his voice makes Barsad pay attention. He didn’t see any new bruises, but that doesn’t mean Jason doesn’t hide any. 

“Or you could stay here and watch zombie-movies,” Barsad says. It would be better anyway. So Barsad would know where Jason is. 

Jason shrugs. “Okay.” 

“No ice-cream in the freezer, but I think there is popcorn somewhere in the cupboards,” Barsad says. 

“Okay,” Jason repeats. “Have fun.” 

Barsad isn’t sure he will.   
   
~+~  
He’s able to plant a tracker on Johnny and he doesn’t tell John right away. He just sits there in the park watching the people, kids, dogs. This park is one of the few places that seems untouched by the occupation. But then Bane and Talia didn’t have need for a park. And they didn’t destroy things just for kicks. It always had a purpose. Some higher goal. Sometimes he can’t believe the occupation had ended only a few months ago. Sometimes he can’t believe he has been given another chance.   
Another shot at life.   
He leans his head against the back of the bench and closes his eyes. The sun is still weak, but it’s bright and there are birds nearby. Children.   
It’s a different life, but Barsad doesn’t think it’s better or worse than the one he has led so far.   
He stays for the better part of two hours and then he calls Mr. Fox. He needs a few changes to his new suit.   
After, he calls John and tells him to meet him this evening so they can follow their suspect. It will be done in shifts, Barsad knows, but he’s sure John will call him should their suspect be on the move.   
They need to find these kids, and fast. Barsad has the feeling their time is running out.   
What he read in the files John got from Gordon, and god only knows how Gordon got these, Johnny can’t be called stable at any time of any given day, and he is some kind of nomad. This hunting ground will bore him soon and he will probably kill all the kids and move on.   
   
~+~  
They watch the subject’s house from a rooftop on the other side of the street. John is tense and Barsad is feeling the adrenalin rushing through his veins. But they need to find the children first. That is the mission and not punishing the killer. The police will deal with that. Gordon will see to it. Barsad doesn’t have much faith in the Gotham PD, but he can respect Gordon and a few others. They did well enough during the occupation and they were in no way trained for this. Except how Gotham’s crime world demands everything from you.   
Barsad doesn’t think they will get lucky tonight. That only works in movies. In reality it takes patience to catch a criminal.   
John’s is running out. Barsad can feel it. 

“You should go help out with that robbery in progress,” he says.

John doesn’t look away from the house. “The police can handle it.” 

“There is a fire-” Barsad starts. 

“You can go. I’ll stay here,” he grates out. 

“You will make a mistake in your state,” Barsad replies calmly. He is sure John hasn’t slept more than four hours. Again. That’s not healthy. And it’s dangerous too. 

“I’m fine. I can do this. I won’t be any good out there today, Shadow.” 

Barsad nods. There is no arguing with John when he uses the Nightwing voice. They stay perched on the rooftop and let the police and firefighters of Gotham handle the night for once.   
The silence around them stretches, but Barsad doesn’t find it uncomfortable. He is used to silence, he meditates, runs plans in his head and watches. Listens. 

~+~  
Around three the following night the subject leaves his apartment. He’s alone, but Barsad had known he would be. The chances he keeps these children somewhere close by are slim, but it would be stupid not to check the apartment, the basement, and everything in between. 

“I’ll take the apartment,” Barsad says. 

John’s nod beside him is sharp and then he’s running, nearly invisible in the shadows and Barsad jumps down smoothly to the fire-escape and makes his way over to their suspect’s apartment. He’s put a tracker on Nightwing too and he has a steady, secure line of communications. He isn’t too worried.   
   
~+~  
The apartment is clean. Too clean. Like no one really lives there. There are photos of birds, cats, and children everywhere. Barsad doesn’t recognize the children. Could be random photographs, could be potential victims. He finds the refrigerator stocked – mostly water and puddings.   
And in the small bedroom a big desk with lots of paper and birds. Like Johnny is forced to make them.   
No murder weapons or drugs. Not even aspirin. In the drawer of the nightstand more pictures of kids, these he recognizes. The first victim, happy, laughing, alive. Three of the missing kids and one of Tim Drake, looking solemn and reading a book under a tree in the park. 

“Nightwing?” He asks. 

“Listening, still following our guy,” he replies. 

Barsad can hear wind and the rumble of the engine. He’s on the bike. “I’ve found photos of the first victim and Tim Drake. Leaving it here so the police can use them as evidence.” 

“So, he is our guy,” Nightwing says. 

“Looks that way. Be careful. He seems harmless, but he has been one of Doctor Crane’s patients. That means he had been sick even before Crane was done with him.” 

“I know. Nightwing out.” 

Barsad checks the tracker he planted on Jason. Still at home. Good, he probably fell asleep on the couch again. And then the one he planted on Nightwing. He’s at the fringes of the city. Barsad needs a vehicle, fast. So he calls Mr. Fox. 

“Yes?” Mr. Fox asks. He sounds like he’s been asleep, which is what normal people do. 

“Mr. Fox. I need a vehicle. A fast one. A silent one.” 

“Mr. Shadow. I have just the right thing for you. Meet me at the usual place in ten minutes.” 

Barsad hangs up and steals a car. He makes it in seven to Mr. Fox’s hideout for all things vigilante. To Barsad’s relief Mr. Fox is already there. He must have broken some speed-limits as well.   
Two minutes later and Barsad is sitting in the Bat and following Nightwing.   
Destination: unknown.


	14. Chapter 14

**~thirteen~**  
John has a really bad feeling about this. The old school building looks like every nightmare John has ever had as a child. There is a small forest behind it where nature has started to reclaim the grounds. It’s dark and eerie. He feels out of his element. Streets and dark alleys he can work with. Plants and night-active animal life not so much. The familiar shapes of Gotham are missing here. He parks the bike and secures the helmet.   
Hopefully Shadow is on his way. John is pretty sure Shadow will have no problems with plants and animal life. The League had its HQ on a freaking mountain after all. 

He makes his way carefully and as silently as he can to the door, watching out for traps. Just because someone is crazy doesn’t mean they aren’t careful and this guy stole children undetected for quite some time. John isn’t going to underestimate him. 

The building is dark and smells like rotting wood, paper, and fresh plants. Ivy is crawling all over the place. The windows are smashed and have deadly edges. It looks abandoned. But looks can be deceiving and besides: John has tracked the man here and this is the only building in sight. He must be here somewhere.    
He switches to night vision as he begins to climb the steps down to the basement. There are hints of animal life down here. It smells damp and rotten too. No fresh footsteps, and on that layer of dust they would be visible.

“Nightwing?” Shadow asks in his ear.   
John stops at the bottom of the stairs and looks around. Nothing. Even the dust looks like it’s been here undisturbed for some time now.   
“Nightwing, come in,” Shadow says. “Are you there? Can you hear me?” 

“Yeah, I’m here.” 

“I’m close to your last known position.”

“I’m in the only freaking building that is here and it’s empty. Layers of dust can’t lie,” John replies frustrated. 

“Pulling up the plans of the building and surrounding area now,” Barsad says. 

Well, fuck, John thinks. He should have done that. He should have thought of that. Batman surely would have. He feels like an amateur. Barsad was right, he needs to take better care of himself. He is not Batman and he maybe never will be.   
“Meet you outside. Nightwing out.”   
   
~+~  
John nearly has a freaking heart attack as he emerges from the ruins of the old school building. The Bat. He knew of course that Fox hat repaired it, but he…well, he didn’t want it. Hadn’t even wanted to see it. And now Barsad is flying that thing. John is not surprised that Barsad knows how to fly a…whatever the Bat is. 

“I see you have a new ride,” John says. 

Barsad looks up from the plans. “Mr. Fox insisted it was the fastest he had in his garage.” 

Well, John thinks, ‘garage’ is one word you could use for that place. “I’m sure it is,” John replies. “So what do we have here?” 

“Tunnels and there had been other building on the ground, so the basements should be still there.” 

“You think he keeps them here, underground.”

“Yes. It is an isolated area. No one comes here, not even teenagers to hang out-”

“It’s just too freaking spooky,” John cuts in. 

Barsad smiles. “Be it as it may. We need to split up and work the tunnels from both ends.” 

John nods. It’s a good idea. “How good will the comm work down there?” 

“Batman did have the best toys, so better than others, but there is really no telling.” Barsad draws a path with a pen on the screen where he thinks their best chances to get in and out undetected are. “The whole area might be unstable,” he adds. 

John figured as much. Nothing is really built to last. “Got it. Stay alert.” 

“Yes,” Barsad replies. “Be careful and no unnecessary risks. If you find something or someone you call for me.” Barsad’s voice is hard and John nods. He isn’t going to argue with Shadow now. He does want to know what made him the man he is now, because behind those stern words hides a story. John can feel it in his gut. But right now is not the time. 

“And you call the police when you find something down there,” John says.

Barsad nods and they split up.   
   
~+~  
John hates the dark, damp tunnels under the schoolhouse. Even with the night vision on he feels out of his element. And then there is the silence. The only thing he can hear is his and Barsad’s breathing. They keep quite because they can’t know who else might be down here. And John doesn’t want a nasty surprise. Or get killed or getting Shadow killed.    
At least the suit keeps the cold down here away he thinks and wishes they hadn’t split up. But only for a second before John gets a fucking grip again. He’s a vigilante now. He can’t start having doubts.   
Life crises are for older men than him – or at least other times. Not when innocent children are in danger.   
   
~+~  
As he takes a curve, the small light at the end of the tunnel blinds him and he swears under his breath. 

“Shadow to Nightwing,” Barsad says immediately. 

“I’m alright,” John replies in a whisper. 

“Did you find something?” 

“A light at the end of the tunnel. Track my position and meet me here as soon as you can. Nightwing out.” He switches of the night vision and creeps closer to the source of light. He still can’t hear a thing down here. Except for insects and…other things he isn’t going to think about now. He brushes the wall in the process until he can feel metal under his fingertips. Bingo, John thinks. A door with a light creeping out underneath it. He still can’t hear a thing. The silence is starting to creep him out. He pushes at the door, but it’s closed of course. Luckily Barsad insisted on John learning how to pick a lock – any lock and really fast too. 

“I’ve found a door,” Barsad says. 

“Same here. Picking the lock now,” John replies. 

“Did you make sure it’s not booby-trapped?” Barsad asks. 

“Yes,” John replies, because he had and he isn’t a complete idiot. Even if he is sleep deprived right now as fuck. It will get better once he has Tim back. Once Tim is back with his parents, he corrects himself. 

“See you inside. Shadow out,” Barsad says. 

John smiles.   
   
~+~  
John opens the door carefully and steps into the dimly lit room. He lets his eyes adjust and just breathes shallowly for a few moments.   
He can see Shadow's silhouette on the other side of the room.   
The children are lying in beds. Motionless and John takes a sharp breath before one of them stirs just a bit.   
They’re alive. 

“Call Gordon. We need help here,” he whispers. 

Barsad nods and leaves the room to call the police and everyone else who they might need here. John remembers Barsad said the children were drugged. And their sleep now seems far too still. He looks around, but he can’t find Johnny or Tim for that matter. But there are other doors leading away from this bedroom. “Going in. Still haven’t found Tim or Johnny.” 

“Nightwing, wait. Backup is on the way.”

“I can’t see Tim,” John stresses and cuts the link. He counts to ten and switches it back on. He is not stupid. He needs Shadow on his side. 

“What the hell, Nightwing. Don’t do that again!” 

“I’m going after him, you-”

“I’m coming with,” Shadow interrupts. Of course he wouldn’t stay with the children, even if John thinks someone should, but they aren’t in danger, at least not right now. 

John hopes Gordon will arrive here soon and in silence. They can’t have a media-circus, not with all these small bodies down here not able to defend themselves.   
John doesn’t wait for Barsad to catch up with him, he knows Barsad will.   
   
~+~  
When they finally find Tim, it is nearly anticlimactic, but then it usually is. John feels relief wash over him as he finds Tim’s pulse.   
He’s drugged to the gills and naked. There is a big bathtub in the room filled with water. It doesn’t look very clean, doesn’t smell clean either. John wants to wrap Tim up in a cape, but he doesn’t wear one, unlike Shadow. 

“I’ll take him outside,” Shadow says, wrapping Tim up. 

John nods. “I’ll find him. He must have heard us coming and made a run for it.” 

“Doesn’t matter. We know where he lives, we have the children. They can describe him. We have photographs. He can’t get away, Nightwing.”

Tim mumbles something and Shadow smiles. John looks at him. “What?” 

“He said it was his idea.”

“His idea?” 

“The name. Nightwing.” 

“Clever kid,” John answers, brushing Tim’s sweaty hair out of his face. “I’m going after him.” 

“Leave the comm open and don’t lose the tracker.” 

John nods and starts running. 

~+~  
When John comes home after delivering Johnny to the police (he's sure that guy will land in Arkham and not in prison where he belongs), he's feeling mentally and physically exhausted. The only thing he wants to do is sleep. For a week if possible, but he'll take just two days. He can trust Barsad to keep the underbelly of the city on their toes. Secretly he thinks that Shadow is more feared than Nightwing, but he doesn't really care. He isn't doing this so people fear him, he's doing this so he can help people. 

And he's done that today. He has saved the children. He’s saved Tim Drake. He's checked on the kid too in his civvies after he could get away from the police and Gordon's questions. It's clear Gordon isn't used to working with a vigilante like John – or even Shadow. They're different, but then, everyone is.   
He throws his shirt over his head and sighs. He needs a shower. A long shower and then his bed. 

“First big case, hmm?” 

John's heart misses a beat. He should have known that he would track John's progress. The successes and failures.   
“Bruce...” he says and turns. There are a million things he wants to say, but he settles on: “I didn't do it alone.” 

“I know,” Bruce answers in his Batman voice. 

Well, John thinks, so much for his shower.


	15. Chapter 15

**~fourteen~**  
Barsad is totally exhausted as he finally makes it to his apartment. He still doesn’t call it home, there aren’t many things that belong to him here, after all, but Jason’s presence makes itself known.   
Empty bowls and candy wrappers, music being played too loud.  
The apartment is empty and Barsad checks the tracker out of habit. Jason is at home. Just across the street. Probably sleeping. He had changed at the Cave, so it wouldn’t have mattered if Jason had fallen asleep on the couch again. Barsad is being careful with Jason, and to be honest it’s not a bother at all. Keeps him on his toes.  
He strips and goes straight to bed. It’s nearly dawn already.   
   
~+~  
The pounding on his door starlets him awake. It’s dark outside which means he’s slept for the whole day. He must have been more exhausted than he thought he was. Sometimes it’s pure will that keeps him going. Ra’s had taught them well. He rubs his face and gets out of bed.   
He makes it to the door in a few steps and as he opens it, Jason is standing outside his hands balled to fists and his hood covering his face. 

“I can’t go home,” he says, his voice breaks somewhere in the middle of the sentence. 

“Jason-”

“I can’t go home,” he repeats and Barsad takes a quick moment to look him over.   
He’s trembling and there are bruises peeking out of his sleeves, his mouth is shiny and-

“Come in,” Barsad says, stepping aside so they won’t even touch by accident. Right now it could set Jason off. 

He goes to the kitchen and makes tea just so he doesn’t go over to where Jason lives and beat the living hell out of that pimp boyfriend his mother is sleeping with. He doesn’t have all the details yet. It doesn’t have to be that. It doesn’t have to be the worst.   
He puts the mug on the table and waits. 

“He found the player, asked where I got it. He was drunk,” Jason says taking the mug, but not drinking, just cradling it. “Mom was…working,” he stops bites his lip. “Said I have pretty lips…a pretty mouth.” 

Pretty mouth, Barsad thinks, that is what John said about Jason too, but as John said it, it was with some kind of awe that something so pretty could survive here. The thing is Jason is beautiful because he’s also deadly, Barsad thinks.   
“Jason.” 

Jason looks up at him then. “Said since mom is not there he’ll just take the next best thing.” He’s biting his lower lip again. “I made a run for it, but I can’t go home.” He takes a sip of his tea. “At least not now.” 

“You can stay here,” Barsad says. 

“Did you just get up?” Jason asks looking him over. 

Barsad is very aware he’s only wearing boxer shorts. “Yes, it had been a long night. Work. I’ll go and put on clothes. You stay here.” 

“Okay,” Jason says. 

Barsad doesn’t think Jason is going to run or go back any time soon. His mother obviously doesn’t care much, or she would be home more often, would try and stop using, would throw out that piece of human… He takes a deep breath. He’s going to make this pimp his next project. Now that they have caught Johnny and Tim Drake and all the other kids are home, he can start cleaning up closer to home.   
   
~+~  
They stay up half the night and watch horror-movies, eating comfort food in silence until Jason falls asleep on the couch. Barsad throws a blanket over him and goes over to his bedroom, switches on the laptop, the one with all the vigilante stuff which has the best protection that not even Batman could crack, and starts digging into Mrs. Todd’s boyfriend’s past.   
What he discovers isn’t pretty, but then he didn’t think it would be.   
Batman had never cared enough for the scum living here, he had bigger fish to fry. But the thing is that this is personal and Barsad has always cared more for the little people. Especially children.   
   
~+~  
He’s awake early the next day, has made waffles when Jason stumbles into the kitchen. 

“You should shower,” Barsad says without looking up from the paper. 

“Uhm…sure,” Jason answers. 

“I made tea, so hurry, it’ll get cold.” 

“Are you alright?” Jason asks. 

Barsad is not. He had saved four children yesterday, but he had not been here when Jason needed him. “I’m not.” 

“I can go now-”

“It’s not you I am angry with,” Barsad interrupts. And ‘anger’ is such a harmless word for what he’s feeling. The man who had attacked Jason last night had done this before, but not a single case made it to court. That scumbag is better protected and connected than Barsad first thought.

“Okay.” 

“Hurry up, your breakfast is getting cold. And I am meeting John later.”

“Okay.” 

“You’re coming with. I want you to take the defense lessons he’s giving, regularly.” 

Jason grabs a waffle and takes a bite. “You’re teaching me stuff.” 

“He teaches differently and with a strict plan. I teach you when I have time and work just got busy,” Barsad replies. 

“Uhm…I duno,” Jason replies between bites, he sits down and pours some tea. Barsad doesn’t think he’s going to shower before breakfast. 

“He can pick you up,” Barsad says. John would, Barsad is sure. 

“I don’t want them to know,” Jason grates out. 

“I won’t tell anyone, Jason. I just want you to be able to defend yourself as best as you can and it’s never bad to know more than one fighting technique. John is good. He even helped Batman during the occupation of Gotham.” 

“Really?” Jason asks skeptically. 

“Really,” Barsad answers. “And it’s not like you have anything better to do, do you?” 

“I could watch movies on your couch…”

“You could, I won’t make you do anything you don’t want to do.” 

“I’m going to shower now…” Jason says, gulping down the rest of his tea. “Uhm…can I borrow a shirt?” 

“Sure,” Barsad answers. “We can buy you one on the way to the manor.” 

“You don’t have to-”

“Nothing fancy, and you can’t go home now to get a clean shirt, can you?” Jason shakes his head. “That’s settled then.”   
   
~+~  
Barsad steps out of the, stolen again, car and Jason follows. They don’t speak as they approach the manor. John’s class is warming up. Jason is playing with the hem of his shirt. It’s red, because that seems to be his favorite color and it’s not like it costs more, it’s not like Barsad can’t afford it. 

“Where’s Mr. Blake?” He asks because he can’t see John. 

“Still inside with a visitor,” one of the boys says. 

“He told us to warm up and run for ten minutes…” one of the younger boys throws in. 

“I’m going to talk to him,” Barsad says. “Do you want to stay here and warm up or do you want to come with?”

“I’ll stay here,” Jason answers, his hands in the pockets of his sweat-pants. 

“Good,” Barsad replies and starts walking. He hopes it isn’t Mrs. Drake again.   
   
~+~  
It isn’t Mrs. Drake. It’s Wayne. Barsad had known of course that Wayne wasn’t dead. He had figured it out, but he didn’t think Wayne would come back to Gotham. After all he had taken Kyle and ran. But how far can you run with a woman like Selina Kyle? She needs the thrill, she loves the thrill. And Barsad suspects that Wayne needs it too.   
He stays in the shadows, because the conversation John has with Wayne looks heated and private. He waits, not knowing if Wayne already felt his presence or not. It doesn’t really matter. Wayne left Gotham. It’s not his city anymore. John and him, they made it theirs, are still making it theirs.   
Eventually John turns around and Barsad steps out of the shadows. 

“I brought Jason. I think he needs to attend your class,” Barsad says. “On a regular basis. Maybe you can pick him up when I can’t drive him here?” He asks. Wayne is a silent, stony presence in the room. Not unlike the statue they made for Batman. 

“Sure. Is he okay?” John wants to know, because John can feel that something is bothering Barsad. He has more compassion than a vigilante maybe should have. 

“No, he isn’t, but he’s Jason.” 

John nods. “Sure I can pick him up when you’re busy.” 

“Busy with what?” Wayne interrupts. “Killing people?” 

“Bruce,” John says, his tone sharp. 

“I try not to. Busy with helping people or healing from bullet wounds. You, Mr. Wayne, know the hazards this lifestyle brings with it.” It’s a good thing this part of the manor is closed off to the public, Barsad thinks, because none of them seem to be able to not use real names. 

“You wanted to blow up my city,” Wayne replies. “And now I am to believe that you care for its people?” 

“I care for some more than others,” he answers and doesn’t look at John. 

“This really isn’t the place or time to have this discussion,” John says, running a hand over his face. “I have a class to give.” 

“The boys are waiting for you,” Barsad replies. 

“Try not to kill each other while I’m gone?” 

“I believe we’re evenly matched, John,” Bruce answers. 

Barsad isn’t so sure. Bruce Wayne is damaged more than he is, and Barsad has been training. God only knows what Wayne has been up to while he had been gone. Barsad hadn’t been keeping track of Wayne. He had been busy with other things. 

“I need to use the computer, John,” Barsad says as John passes him by. 

“Sure, you know the way,” John replies, brushing his fingers shortly against Barsad’s wrist.   
Barsad nods. 

“He lets you use the Batcomputer-”

“Alone and unsupervised too,” Barsad interrupts because he can’t help himself. 

“I don’t know what you’re planning but-”

“Right now? Investigating a very bad man, and then I will take Jason home, cook his favorite meal, which is gyros, and watch him fall asleep on my couch. And then I will beat the hell out of that bad man,” Barsad interrupts again. He doesn’t have to listen to Wayne’s threats and suspicions. He’s earned John’s trust, he’s even earned Gordon’s to some degree. He’s earned Jason’s for God’s sake and Jason doesn’t trust people easily. 

“You’ve killed people. I know it had been you.” 

Barsad nods. “John knows too.”

“Maybe he wasn’t ready to take up the cowl,” Bruce says. 

“He wasn’t. You left him here to fend for himself. He didn’t have the training you had. He wasn’t in any way prepared for the horrors of Gotham’s underworld. You gave the city John and it nearly ate him alive.” 

“And you saved him?” 

“He saved himself, but I helped him develop his skills, his potential. It should have been you. And you know it,” Barsad answers. “Why did you come back?” 

“Because he teamed up with you,” Wayne answers. 

“Months ago,” Barsad replies and waits for an answer he knows won’t come. It might be one reason, but not the reason why Wayne has come back. Maybe he had missed the city. Maybe Kyle had left him. Maybe he realizes he had made a mistake. It doesn’t matter right now. Barsad has other priorities. “If that is all?” 

“No,” Wayne replies but doesn’t explain further. 

Barsad will cross that bridge when he gets to it too.   
   
~+~  
Cross-referencing with the Batcomputer drags up a whole other can of worms. This goes deeper than just one well connected pimp. There is a whole network, but even if it had not been, Barsad would’ve done something about it years ago. This had been one of Batman’s long-term projects, but it had been shoved farther and farther back because other things had been more important. Or had seemed that way and in the meantime this little thing grew into the cancer it is now. Time to rip it out he decides.   
   
~+~  
“She’s gone,” Jason says that Friday, he’s sitting with his back to the door in front of Barsad’s apartment. 

“Your mother?” Barsad asks as he unlocks the door. He really needs to give Jason a key. 

“He said she’s with a client over the weekend,” Jason answers, following him inside. Barsad knows  
Jason has no illusions about what his mother is doing for a living. “She’s done that before, but she always told me. But since he’s in…he’s started hanging around our place. He’s…” Jason stops and takes a breath. 

“He tried it again, didn’t he?” Barsad asks, trying to stay calm. 

“Says since she’s not here, I’ll have to earn my keep!” Jason spits. “With that pretty mouth. He wasn’t drunk this time. He means it, he…he held me down and he-” Jason stops. “Can I stay here?” 

“Yes, of course.” 

“What about my mom? Can you ask your cop friend to look into it?” Jason wants to know. 

“Yes, Jason,” he answers. “Want to cut the meat?”

“You’re making gyros again?”

“It’s your favorite,” Barsad replies handing Jason the meat and knife. 

“I didn’t say that it is.” 

“I notice things, Jason. I just don’t push.”

Jason nods, starting to cut the meat in small precise pieces. He’s worried and angry, but his knife-work is still very good. Barsad thinks they can work with that.   
   
~+~  
He had never promised John anything, he thinks as he slits the bastard’s throat. Some people don’t learn and don’t deserve to live either. No one will cry over this scumbag, of that Barsad is sure. He cleans his knife on the expensive shirt of one of the other men in the room and puts it away.   
Jason’s mother is dead. The police will be all over this in no time. He’s called Gordon and told him something was going down here. No one, except John and Wayne of course, will know he was even here.   
Shadow, he thinks, is a very fitting name.   
   
~+~  
“He’s dead,” Jason says, he’s trembling but only slightly. His face is hidden under his hood. “He’s dead. The cops asked all kinds of questions about him and where my mom was. I didn’t tell them, because I don’t know where she is. Told them she’s working and they had that look, ya know?” He rambles on. 

Barsad knows that Jason knows his mother is dead. Barsad took her body, because he doesn’t want Jason to end up in the system and he can’t adopt him either, but he wants Jason close where he can keep an eye on him.  
“I know,” Barsad replies. 

“He’s dead. Killed by someone…” he looks up then, directly into Barsad’s eyes. “You killed him.” 

“I-” he knows he should deny that. He knows. “Yes,” Barsad says. He doesn’t regret it, he doesn’t feel shame for it either. It had to be done and he did it. 

Jason throws himself at Barsad, right there in the small entry hall. “Thank you,” he whispers. “Thank you.” He’s clinging and Barsad slings his arms around him and holds on tight. 

“You’re welcome,” he replies. They stay like that until Jason starts to let go and then they make dinner and eat it on the couch, watching bad 60’s sci-fi movies. 

Jason falls asleep on Barsad’s couch again. 

 

~+~  
“I know what you did,” Wayne says from the shadows. 

“You can’t prove it,” Barsad replies. 

“I know.” 

“If you’re here to warn me off, spare me. You left and we stepped up. Do you have any idea how it was after you were gone? You created a void and you died so very publicly.”

“Batman doesn’t kill-“

“But he lets people die,” Barsad replies, “Besides Batman is dead. You killed him.” 

“Your bomb killed him.” 

“Your bomb killed him,” Barsad counters. 

“I was deceived,” Bruce says hotly. 

Ah, Barsad thinks. “And you think that is what I am doing with John now. Tell that to the boy in my apartment, tell him you would’ve left the murderer of his mother live. The man who tried and nearly succeed to rape him several times!”   
Bruce is silent.   
“I care for this city, Wayne. I just show it differently. And to be honest, I’m not sure if John, given the right motivation at the right age, wouldn’t have hunted down the killers of his father and paid it back in kind.”  

“John didn’t. He could have, after he became a cop.” 

“Because he believed in you, but you left and he had to find his own path. I don’t think he will cast me out for killing these men. He hadn’t before. He knows me. He knows I do what he wishes he could. What you wish you could.” 

“I never wish to kill anyone.” 

“And yet you do. You let people die. As you destroyed the League, how many died then?” Barsad asks, Bruce keeps quite. “But you saved Ra’s. The only person you should have killed, I know you wanted to. If you had, you could’ve prevented the death of hundreds. If you dueled with him, you could have changed the League, but it didn’t even occur to you.” He closes his eyes and listens. He still can barely see Wayne in the shadows of the building. He is very good. The League could have been great under him.  
There is soft rustling to his left and he spins around, but Wayne is gone and instead Nightwing is standing there.

“Shadow,” Nightwing says. 

Barsad knows he’s heard everything, because he’s left the comm link open. He doesn’t need approval, he doesn’t need lies.   
“I’m not sorry I killed him.” 

“I know,” Nightwing says. ”You should have called me in for it.”

“No, because I knew you would’ve talked me out of killing him and it needed to be done.” 

Nightwing nods. Barsad knows he isn’t happy. “The body of Jason’s mother?” 

“Buried…I know it’s not the best way, but I can make it work and I can’t adopt him.” 

“He could come live in the manor,” Nightwing says. 

Barsad’s thought about it. “I want to keep him close. He’s different from other kids. He’s-”

“Angry,” Nightwing says gently. “All the time.” 

“Yes.” 

“We’ll figure something out.” 

“Thank you,” Barsad replies. “What will you do now that he’s back?” 

“Deal with it,” Nightwing says.


	16. Chapter 16

**~fifteen~**  
John is glad to see Bruce again, he really is. He has longed for someone to talk to for some time, but then Barsad had shown up, and they have a connection. They’re friends and John knows he’s not the only one who feels that way. They work well together. They may not always agree on how things need to be done, but that makes them human. 

“He’s a killer!” Bruce says. 

“Yes, I know, but so am I, so are you,” John replies. 

It earns him a sharp look from Bruce. “We killed in the line of duty.” 

“He does the same. He doesn’t kill for fun, Bruce.” 

“I can’t believe you’re defending him. He wanted to blow up the whole city.”

“Talia wanted to blow up the whole city and you slept with her. Kyle betrayed you and sold you out to Bane and you slept with her. Ran away with her,” John counters, because he loves Bruce, God knows, but he’s not going to do this. He’s not going to take the blame. Like a child that doesn’t realize the consequences of what it’s doing. 

“So, are you sleeping with him? Is it that?” 

“What?” John asks, disbelieving of what he just heard. 

“You stroked his wrist when he came to deliver the kid.” 

“Jason,” John says. “His name is Jason.” John knows Bruce can remember the name, Bruce remembers every fucking little thing, pays attention to details. “And no, I am not sleeping with Shadow.” 

“Barsad, his name is Barsad and he was Bane’s second in command, John. He was League.” 

“You were League!” John says frustrated. 

“That’s not the point. I destroyed the League, or thought I did because I didn’t agree with their moral code-”

“Wow,” John interrupts. “Are you even listening to yourself? You know how arrogant that sounds? You killed so many people because you didn’t like how they lived their lives?” 

“They were dangerous.” 

“You are dangerous. I am dangerous. Every kid with a gun out there is dangerous. We don’t like kids running around with guns, but we don’t kill them. You burned the Leagues HQ down, Bruce. The League trained children!”  

“I never saw any children.” 

“That doesn’t mean they weren’t there. I know Barsad trained with the League from a young age. Talia too. I know Ra’s took a liking to you and trained you himself. You didn’t have much contact with the other members, did you?” It’s not a real question. John knows Ra’s was Bruce’s mentor and in situations like this it shows.

“John,” Bruce says, sitting down in one of the big arm-chairs. “I didn’t come here to fight with you.” 

“Why then?” 

“Because I’m concerned.” 

“About the company I keep. I’m not a child, Bruce!” 

“No, you’re not.”

“But you still think I can’t make my own decisions,” John replies, trying to stay calm. Who would have thought Bruce would be so stubborn, so hard to deal with? A part of John thinks he should have seen that coming. He was Batman after all. A part of him will always be Batman. 

“I just think the company you’re keeping is dangerous,” Bruce says. 

“I sure as hell hope you’re including yourself in this.” 

“John-”

“I’m tired. I need a shower and a good night’s sleep. Are you staying in the manor?” 

“Yes,” Bruce answers. 

John nods and leaves to grab his nightclothes. He can feel Bruce’s gaze on him all the way to the bathroom.   
He leans his head against the wall and lets the water wash away the night. What a clusterfuck. And what is Bruce’s deal anyway? So what if John touches Barsad’s wrist? They’re friends. There’s nothing to it, except comfort and it was such a fleeting gesture too. Why did Bruce focus on it?   
John eyes snap open.   
He can’t be jealous, can he? He can’t know John had had a crush on him since pretty much forever.   
On the other hand, he’s the goddamned Batman. John sighs.   
   
 ~+~  
“I hear you have a guest,” Tim says, after class. He’s quick and he learns really fast too, but he’s so very small. John thinks the other boys are a bit too careful with him, because they don’t want to hurt him. John can feel that it pisses Tim off when they hold back. 

Except for Jason, but Jason doesn’t show up regularly. At least not during the week. He’s always there on the weekend with Barsad.   
“I do,” John replies. He doesn’t think it’s a good idea for Wayne to stalk the manor, but it’s not like John can make the man do anything. 

“Who is staying over,” Tim continues. 

“Yes,” John says. 

“So, you have a new mysterious boyfriend?” Tim asks, it sounds more like: didn’t you learn from your past experience with secret relationships? And: you’re too good to be hidden away. John feels touched. 

“It’s not like that. We’re just friends,” John answers. 

“I think you should find someone who likes you in public,” Tim says gently. “Is all.”

John ruffles his hair, Tim looks startled for a second, before he ducks his head. Seriously, John thinks, what the hell is wrong with Tim’s parents? The smallest gestures of affection seem to startle him. John decides they need to work on that too. No eleven year old boy should feel that way.   
“Like who?” John teases. 

“Like Mr. Barsad. You seem close and you-” he stops, cocks his head, thinking, “When you show us things, you’re so in tune. Your bodies and minds. It looks fluid.” 

“It’s because we train together,” John says. 

“It’s because you like each other,” Tim insists. 

“Yeah, we do,” John admits. It’s a bit strained right now with Bruce being here and all judgmental, but John thinks he can make Bruce at least see things his way, even if he doesn’t have much hope that Bruce will forgive Barsad for wanting to blow up his city. Which is just hypocritical, John thinks, as he’s forgiven Kyle for a lot of shit. Maybe he only makes exceptions for pretty women. 

“The other boys are holding back,” Tim says suddenly, cutting into John’s musings. 

“I know. They don’t want to hurt you by accident.” 

“I can take them.” 

“You’re a lot smaller than most of the boys your age and you’re stamina isn’t that great yet either. Give it time.” 

“Jason doesn’t hold back,” Tim says. 

“Jason is different.”

“Because Mr. Barsad trains him?” 

“Mr. Barsad had a different teacher than me and that’s why Jason doesn’t hold back. They’re philosophy is different.” 

“But..” Tim says, “I know I’ve seen the way Mr. Barsad fights before. I just can’t remember. He isn’t famous, is he? Or his teacher, perhaps?” 

“No,” John answers. “You want to go another round before your driver gets here or would you like to go to the kitchens?” 

“Is Mr. Alfred back from his holiday?” Tim asks.   
John is pretty sure Tim knows that as well. He doesn’t comment on it, but nods instead.   
“Then I’m going to say hello.” 

“You do that,” John says.   
   
~+~  
“The Drake kid is snooping around,” Bruce says, but his voice sounds fond, like he approves of eleven year olds snooping around in other people’s lives. John finds it dangerous. Not only for them, but also for the kid. 

“He reminds me of you, sometimes,” John admits. 

“How so?” 

“He just can’t let things go either,” John answers. Fuck, he thinks, the instant it’s out. He doesn’t want to fight with Bruce again. 

Bruce keeps quite for a few moments. “John-”

“I know. I don’t want to fight. I don’t know why we’re doing this,” he interrupts. He nearly expects Bruce to say: because you’re teaming up with a former killer, that is why, but Bruce doesn’t. Only looks at him. Long and hard. 

“I’m worried,” he says, “Because you’re in love with me.” 

“What?” John asks. He should have known. But why does Bruce have to address it? It could have stayed buried. It didn’t hurt anyone. 

“It’s bleeding out of you. For everyone to see who knows what to look for and he knows how to look, because he was trained to see these things.” 

“Weaknesses,” John says toneless. “You think it’s a weakness and that Barsad will exploit it one day, but that is not the person he is. You don’t know him.” 

“And you do?” 

“Better than you for sure. He trained with me, he listened to me, he helped me, he fed me for god’s sake, Bruce. He was there for me when I so clearly needed someone.” 

“And now you think you owe him?” 

“No, I don’t,” John says hotly. “I think he is a good person. I think he always has been a decent person, even when he was working with Bane. There wasn’t any torture done, the deaths were always swift and public. To keep people in check. He isn’t cruel, he’s logical. He’s different from me. And I need that. I need someone in my life I can be honest with. I wondered about you, but then you had Alfred to talk to.” 

“You could have talked to Alfred John.” 

“He didn’t raise me. We barely knew each other when I picked up the cowl. He isn’t a vigilante either. I had to find my own path. My own friends, my own allies.” 

“And you found Barsad.” 

“Or he found me. What does it matter? This is our city now. You left it to fend for itself-”

“I left you in charge,” Bruce interrupts. 

“I wasn’t up to the task,” John says. It hurts to say it, but it’s the truth. He hadn’t been good enough. “Without Barsad I probably wouldn’t have made it this far. Would have been injured or would have quit. He is better trained.” 

“But you have more compassion, the bigger heart.” 

“I don’t know if it does me any good, Bruce,” John says, leaning against the wall, closing his eyes. 

“It’s one reason I left you the Cave,” Bruce replies. His voice is gentler now, more intimate. Closer too. 

John’s suddenly aware of the half lit room, the silence, their breathing. His own heartbeat. This is a million teenage fantasies come true. He bites his lip, swallowing a moan. Not the time, or the place. Just because Bruce knows, doesn’t mean he feels the same way. John never even heard a whisper about Bruce Wayne hooking up with men from time to time. And he has been digging. On the other hand, he had managed to hide that he was the Batman. He had fooled nearly everyone. John had known, but he had no evidence. It had been just a gut-feeling. 

“Should have found someone with the skills too,” John whispers. 

“You can learn the skills necessary, but you can’t learn compassion.” 

“Bruce,” John says and even to his own ears he sounds desperate and hungry. He wants Bruce, he’s wanted Bruce since before he even knew what it entails. He can feel Bruce, stalking in the shadows, can feel his body heat, his breath way too close. 

“John,” Bruce says.

“Don’t,” John whispers, “Don’t if you don’t mean it.” Don’t if you won’t stay, don’t if you’re not sure, don’t…he thinks, just don’t, because I don’t want to know how it feels like, if you’re going to take it away again. 

“John,” Bruce repeats and John takes a shaky breath, pressing into the wall at his back as Bruce leans in to kiss him. 

Bruce kisses him like he kisses women. Careful and gentle and soft. He’s probably never been with a man before. Not for real at least. Not in a relationship, not like he has been with women.   
John reaches out to pull him closer and starts to kiss Bruce in earnest. He needs to make clear that he isn’t dealing with a girl. Needs to make Bruce feel the hard plains of his body, because sometimes it’s too easy to pretend in the dark, in the heat of a moment.   
Bruce gives back in kind.   
   
~+~  
John still has no idea what it means. A hasty handjob in the dark could mean anything. Maybe Bruce is trying to manipulate him into- no, John thinks. Bruce wouldn’t. Not with John. 

“You seem distracted,” Shadow says. They’ve been waiting for the druglord to show up for over forty minutes now. John wants to bag that guy and call it a night. 

John shakes his head. “I slept with Bruce,” he replies. Maybe this is too much information, but who else can he talk about this with? Who else would understand all the implications? Only someone who knows him and Bruce, knows all the secrets of their lives. 

“You are in love with him,” Shadow states. 

John nods. “Yes.” 

“It's only natural to want to be closer then.” 

“It’s fucked up and stupid, he could leave at any given moment and go back to Kyle,” John voices his fears. 

“He hasn’t been with men before?” Shadow asks. 

“I didn’t ask. It was all very messy and fast and…did I mention messy?” 

Shadow smiles. “He isn’t trying to hurt you, or manipulate you by using your desires against you.” 

“Isn’t that what the League teaches?” John asks. 

“The League is no more. But yes, it was one of the lessons we learned.” 

“The hard way?” John asks. He is curious about the League. He doesn’t think everything they stood for was bad. After all they had produced Batman and Shadow and their lessons live on in them. John is learning League stuff just by training with Barsad, and John passes it on to the boys in his class. John wonders if Bruce is even aware of that fact, or if he doesn’t think about it for his own sake. 

“Sometimes,” Shadow answers. 

“Part of me knows he wouldn’t manipulate me like this just so he could win an argument, but-”

“But?” 

“Why now? He came back not for me but because I teamed up with you. And he hates the League.” 

“Because he feels that Ra’s has betrayed him,” Shadow replies. “As for why now. Maybe he only realized that he wants more because you teamed up with me.” 

“You mean he’s jealous?” John asks. The thought has crossed his mind, but for God’s sake, they’re talking about Batman here. 

“Maybe. It’s just a thought. I don’t have the great insights either, Nightwing.”   
John nods, thinking. “He’s here,” Shadow says pointing to the building they’re observing. 

“Finally. Get the evidence, get the guy wrapped up, and go home?” Nightwing asks. 

“Yes,” Shadow answers and jumps. 

Nightwing follows.   
   
~+~  
“I’ve been thinking,” John says as he throws the suit in the hamper. He knows Bruce is in the Cave, he can feel his presence, can even make him out in the shadows when he tries. That is how good he’s become with Barsad’s help. 

“About?” Bruce asks, emerging from the shadows. He’s wearing black a lot, like he can’t help himself. 

“Everything? You being here, me and Barsad-”

“You and Barsad?” Bruce interrupts. 

“Are you jealous? Because I told you there is nothing going on between me and Barsad.” 

“I’m not jealous, John,” Bruce answers. There is a certain quality to Bruce’s voice when he says John’s name, it makes John shiver with want. And he’s pretty sure Bruce knows that. 

“Good,” he says, running a hand through his hair. “Because there is no need for that, but you have to accept the fact that he is a big part of my life. Not only as Nightwing but also as me. He is my friend, Bruce. An alley, a brother, if you want. If you want to stay, if you want to be here,” with me, he doesn’t say, “you need to learn to play nice.” 

“I can try, but I’m stubborn and selfish John,” Bruce replies coming closer. He’s a big black shadow, smooth and languid and John wants him to pin him down and have his wicked way with John. He takes a deep breath, letting Bruce pull him close. Bruce’s hand on his naked hip feels like a branding. 

“I’m stubborn too,” John says against Bruce’s mouth and then kisses him. 

~+~    
“What are you going to do now?” John asks the next morning over coffee.

“Dye my hair and start a film-carrier.” 

“Bruce,” John stresses. 

“I haven’t thought this through,” Bruce admits. 

“You rushed back like a fool then?” 

Bruce makes a face. “You can say that.” 

“You still have connections. You could say you had amnesia…” 

Bruce smiles. “No, I can’t be Batman anymore either, John. If you were wondering.” 

John has been wondering, but he has also seen Bruce’s x-rays and all the other stuff that he could get his hands on. Bruce isn’t fit for this anymore, but it doesn’t mean he can’t help them. Nightwing and Shadow.   
“You could be our Alfred.” 

“Making you tea and sandwiches when you come back from patrol?” Bruce teases. 

“Helping with research and insights, Bruce. Combat training. Experience.” He takes a sip of his tea. “If you’re going to stay longer, that is.” Bruce still hasn’t made it clear, still hasn’t said what the deal with him and Selina Kyle is. John can share, but he needs to know. 

“I’m planning on staying longer, John.” 

“What about Selina?” John asks, putting the mug down. “I am okay with you being with her too.” 

“John…” Bruce says like he doesn’t know how to follow that up. 

“She dragged you out of your hole.” 

“You banged on my door John. I became Batman once more because you believed in me.”

John nods, it doesn’t mean he broke it off with Selina or will, but it’s good enough for now.


	17. Chapter 17

**~sixteen~**  
“John is not a cop,” Jason says out of nowhere. 

“Not anymore,” Barsad replies. 

“What is he doing now?” Jason asks. “Because the boys at the orphanage say he’s living there and teaching them stuff.” 

“He teaches kids at the orphanage stuff,” Barsad answers. 

Jason rolls his eyes. He’s better now, but he still balls his fists when a man brushes by him, accidentally or not. He’s okay with the kids he trains and with John, to a point. John is being careful with Jason too. Barsad is sure Jason knows it, and that it pisses him off, and that he appreciates it too, which pisses him off even more. Jason is a complicated kid.   
“Yes, but you said that he was trying to find the Drake kid.” 

“His name is Tim,” Barsad replies. 

“I know his name. I see him every week with that freakish driver of his that sure as hell is a bodyguard.” Jason huffs, grabbing a handful of popcorn. They aren’t really watching the movie. This is, Barsad thinks, them just hanging out. 

“His parents are scared,” Barsad says. 

“They should have paid better attention before. Hell, they should pay better attention now, and not pay someone to look after him.” 

“They’re busy.” Barsad says, handing the remote to Jason, who is making grabby hands and noises at it.

“This movie is crap,” he says switching to something else. “You’re busy and you’re here,” he adds. 

Barsad can’t argue with that. He is busy and he is here when Jason needs him. “Yes.”

“So, it’s doable. They just don’t care,” Jason says. The ‘like my mom didn’t care’ hangs unspoken between them. 

“People are different.” 

“Some people shouldn’t have kids,” Jason says. 

“Then some really great kids wouldn’t have been born, Jason,” Barsad replies.  

Jason leans into him a fraction, which is his way of saying thanks when he’s too overwhelmed to actually say the words. Barsad doesn’t mind. He thinks it’s a good thing Jason can still be physically affectionate with someone after what has happened to him.   
   
~+~  
“How is Jason?” John asks. 

It’s still a bit surreal that they are meeting like real people in public cafés now to talk about, well, life and kids. In broad daylight no less. 

“He’s good. He took up the knives. I’m thinking about getting him a few shuriken for his birthday.”   
John gives him a look, but doesn’t ask if he’s sure about it. Barsad appreciates it. He doesn’t need to be questioned on the Jason issue more. He’s made up his mind. Jason grew on him and now Barsad can’t imagine a life without Jason being in it. Funny how that works sometimes. 

“I’m sure he’ll master them too.” 

“You will as well.” 

“They aren’t really my weapon, but I get that they are handy,” John shrugs. 

They order tea when the waiter finally arrives. Barsad is sure John doesn’t only want to talk about the kids. There is a bigger issue here: Bruce Wayne.   
“How is Bruce?” Barsad asks. 

“Fine. Possessive. Irritating.” John smiles. 

“Is he coming back?” Barsad asks. He’s read the medical files and it doesn’t look good, but that has never stopped a man on a mission. Bruce had pushed his body beyond any reasonable limits, but so had Bane, so had Talia. Barsad is sure Batman could do it again, it wouldn’t be wise, but he could do it for another year, maybe two. 

“No, not in his old…” John hesitates and settles on, “Position.” 

“What will he do now?” 

“He has a new last name and hides out at the manor right now. He and Kyle…” he pauses. “I have no idea. Are on a break or something.” 

“You think he’s going to stay?” Barsad asks carefully. 

“For a while, possibly.” John takes a sip of his tea. “He will help us from the-”

“Cave,” Barsad finishes.   
John nods. This conversation is vague enough to go unnoticed and bizarre enough to make Barsad a bit uncomfortable. 

“I told him he has to play nice now.” 

Barsad smiles. “How did that go?” 

“Ended with me on my back,” John replies. 

“I don’t have the feeling you minded too much,” Barsad says. 

John smiles again. He looks good when he smiles. It never looks fake on John these days. “I am, however, concerned about Tim Drake’s questions,” John says. 

“He is a smart kid,” Barsad replies, taking a sip of his own tea. It’s good, he should take Jason here sometime. Maybe on the weekend. They also have excellent cake. 

“Too smart, maybe? He reminds me of Bruce. Can’t let things go. He is too young to be thrown into this life.” 

“Did you consider that this is maybe his way of dealing with the kidnapping?” Barsad asks. 

“No,” John answers honestly and Barsad can see his mind working. “He’s been on to stuff before, but now it seems like an obsession. Maybe this is his way of dealing with what happened to him when he was taken.”  

“It must have been traumatic even if the children weren’t abused. They were drugged, they were killed…” Barsad stops. He knows that some of the earlier taken children had witnessed the murder of the first boy. He is glad that they could spare Timothy Drake that experience.   

John nods, because he knows what Barsad is thinking about. “Bruce finds it intriguing.” 

“He has always been drawn to sharp minds.” 

John looks at him. The curiosity barley held back and Barsad waits for the question. “You knew him back then?” 

“We knew about him. Ra’s favourite pupil. He had been so broken and lost and determinate. It was a pleasure to watch him battle his own demons.” 

“But you didn’t have much contact with him,” John says, it’s not a question at all. 

“No. Ra’s had plans for him. They were kindred spirits.” 

“It shows,” John says. “The teachings, it shows in some situations.” 

“Like destroying the League?” Barsad asks. 

John nods. “It could’ve been different. I don’t think the League was all that bad,” John admits. 

“You would’ve been a great addition to it, John,” Barsad says and he means it. 

John smiles wryly. “Thanks, I think.” 

“You’re welcome.” He takes another sip of his tea. “What will you do about Timothy Drake?” 

“What can I do? I do what you do, wait it out.” 

“I'm not waiting it out John. I am training Jason to be…” he stops. Well, not him. Not League, not Batman. 

“Himself?” John asks gently. 

Barsad nods. “Yes.” 

“And when he’s older and wants to pick up a cowl like you?” 

“I’ll let him. This city, this world needs people like us. I wish it weren’t so, but it is.” 

“And what if he crosses the line?” John asks. 

“We don’t answer to him, John. He is no more. We only answer to ourselves and our own moral code, or own conscience.”

“As long as we do the right thing,” John says. 

“Do you think I didn’t do the right thing with the man who attacked Jason?” Barsad asks. 

“No, I think you did the right thing,” John replies. 

“And that is what bothers you,” Barsad says. 

“Yes.” 

“It doesn’t matter if you approve, John. As long as you don’t feel guilty. As long as you don’t cross your own lines.”

John nods again.   
   
~+~  
“I talked to Drake,” Jason says the next week. Barsad looks up from the carrots he’s cutting and glances at Jason who is preparing the chicken.  

“You’re making friends then?” He asks. 

“We have mutual interests,” Jason answers. 

“Training-”

“Vigilante parent figures in our lives,” Jason interrupts, he’s still cutting precise little squares, not looking at Barsad. 

“Jason-”

“I get why you couldn’t tell me, but B,” he says putting the knife down on the counter. “Fucking Batman?” 

Well, Barsad thinks, so much for keeping that secret. It’s not his fault. Wayne has been careless. “We didn’t think he would come back. And he isn’t coming back. Not as Batman, at least.” 

“So, you are Shadow and John is Nightwing, right?” Jason asks. 

“Yes,” Barsad answers. 

“Well, fuck me.” Jason says. Leaning against the counter. He’s grown quite a bit over the last few months, but then he’s nearly fourteen now. Fast and deadly, and more and more attractive with every passing day. Barsad can see it in the looks the girls are sneaking at him. How anyone could not care to have him in their lives is really beyond Barsad. “And you kill people?” 

“Not as a rule,” Barsad answers. “Nightwing doesn’t. At all.” 

“Different teachings. Drake says you and Batman have similar fighting styles. Not unlike my own.” 

“We had the same teacher,” Barsad replies. 

“Okay…so, why are you teaching me?” 

“Because you want to learn,” Barsad replies. Because he wants the good parts of the League to live on, he realizes. Maybe that is why he also started training John back then. 

“So I can become a vigilante one day?” 

“Or a police officer, or a doctor, Jason. Your future is yours. I just try to give you the tools to lead a better life.” 

“By being able to kill people with my hands?” Jason asks. 

“It’s up to you how you want to use what I teach you,” Barsad replies. 

“And you trust me to make the right decision?” 

“Yes,” Barsad says. 

Jason nods and goes back to cutting the chicken in precise little squares.   
   
~+~  
Barsad thinks about telling John about the boys figuring them out, but it would take away the surprise. For John, Wayne, and Tim, when Tim finally confronts them with his discoveries, so he keeps it to himself.   
John will find out soon enough and maybe when Tim is done with explaining how he figured out John is Nightwing it will become clear to Tim what he wants to do now. How he wants to deal with what has happened to him and what he knows. About John, Wayne, and about himself.   
That is the main reason why Jason confronted him, he is sure of that. Sometimes things make more sense to Jason when he can argue about them, just for the sake of playing Devil’s advocate. It makes Barsad feel proud of the boy. He is sure he will also be proud of the man Jason will become.   
 


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **This is the end, the next chapter is an Extra written for Keyanna. But I am drafting on a sequel...if someone should be interested?**

**~seventeen~**  
Tim Drake is drenched to the bones. His hair is plastered to his face and he looks even smaller standing outside John’s door. He looks also like a boy on a mission. 

Bruce is in the shower. John has a bad feeling about this morning. “Don’t you have an umbrella?” John asks, stepping aside to let the boy in. 

“Forgot it in the car,” Tim answers. John hands him a tea-towel. “Thank you, John.” 

“Do you want tea?” 

“Yes, please?” Tim answers sitting down on a stool and rubbing his hair dry. “I’m sorry for the mess.” 

“It’s only water,” John replies. He wonders what Tim is doing here on a Sunday morning way too early for a kid to be up. But then Tim is no normal eleven year old. In this rain a normal kid would stay in bed and watch cartoons. 

“Do you have company?” Tim asks suddenly. 

“Yes,” John answers. 

“I…is it male company?” Tim asks. 

“Yes,” John replies. He’s a bit amused by Tim trying not to shift uncomfortably on the chair. 

“I’m sorry for interrupting but,” he takes a deep breath. “I just wanted to thank you in person for saving my life,” he says in a rush. 

John pauses in making tea. There are different ways to play this. Tim is smart, but he’s also only a kid. John could lie. “As far as I know the police saved your life.” 

“Nightwing and Shadow saved my life, John,” Tim replies firmly. 

“Why are you thanking me then?” John asks, putting the mug down on the table in front of Tim. 

Tim gives him a look. “Jason’s talked to Mr. Barsad, John.”  
Well, if Jason confronted Barsad then Barsad didn’t lie to him. John knows that. Barsad doesn’t feel like lying to his…son. 

“He should’ve at least warned you,” Bruce says from the door to the bathroom. He’s leaning against the frame in only a towel. He looks good enough to eat, John thinks. 

“Mr. Wayne,” Tim says. 

“Mr. Drake,” Bruce replies with a nod and a smile that is only in his eyes. 

“Tim’s going to join us for breakfast,” John says. 

“I should put on some clothes then,” Bruce replies.  
What a shame John thinks, but nods. 

“I’m sorry I interrupted your Sunday,” Tim says again, staring at the door Bruce just closed behind him. “I know you don’t have much free time between teaching here and being Nightwing and now…Bruce Wayne.” He turns to John. “How long did you know he wasn’t dead?” 

“Since he left me the cowl,” John replies. He’s pretty sure Tim figured it out anyway. Birds of a feather and all that. “How long did you know?” 

“I wasn’t sure he wasn’t dead, to be honest. I just knew that he and Mr. Barsad must have had the same teacher and as Mr. Barsad teaches you too, it was pretty obvious.” Tim shrugs. 

“Not to everyone,” Bruce says as he enters the kitchen area again. John hands him a mug of coffee and he nods a thanks. He’s wearing black again. 

Tim blushes, because somehow he knows it’s a compliment. And well, it’s the freaking Batman he’s talking to. John would have blushed at Tim’s age too. But John didn’t have the courage or the need to confront Bruce back then. 

“And you went to Jason with your theories?” John asks to help the kid out. 

Tim’s head snaps in his direction. “He had his own theories about Mr. Barsad. Jason is pretty smart,” Tim says, nodding earnestly. 

Yeah, John thinks, a crush waiting to happen. Bruce’s eyes are smiling, he’s seen it too. John wonders how much about Barsad Jason has told Tim. He is not going to ask. If Tim doesn’t know Barsad killed the man who murdered Jason’s mother and tried to rape him than John won’t be the one to tell him. A part of his childhood has already been stolen. John doesn’t want Tim to turn out like Bruce, because the tendencies are already there. 

“That he is,” Bruce says, sipping his coffee. John hands a roll over to Tim. “And why did you have the need to confront us with your discoveries, Timothy?” Bruce asks gently. 

“Uhm…Tim, please? I like Tim,” he ducks his head. John wants to ruffle his hair, so he leans over and does just that. 

“Tim then. Why are you here?” 

“I…” he swallows and looks at Bruce. His eyes are big and earnest and he doesn’t tremble, even though Bruce’s whole attention is directed at him. “I want to help.” 

“What?” John asks. 

“I want to help you and Mr. Barsad and Mr. Wayne? Batman? Is Batman coming back to Gotham?” Tim asks. 

Bruce shakes his head slightly. “No, Gotham has other protectors now. She doesn’t need Batman anymore.” 

“Oh, still,” Tim bites his lip. “I want to help. I want to train more. I want to learn to defend myself better because-” he stops, taking a breath again. Careful and shallow. “Because I don’t want to feel like I did when I was taken. I don’t want to feel helpless again. I couldn’t do anything to help the other kids.”

“You are elven Tim,” John says. 

“Twelve in a few days,” Tim corrects. John bets Bruce knew that.  

“Still too young for,” he waves his hand vaguely. 

“Jumping from rooftops? Beating up the bad guys, helping people?” Tim asks. 

“Never too young for the last one,” Bruce answers. 

“I’m not saying let me hunt down criminals in a dark alley…I’m just saying, please let me learn?” Tim asks and he looks so earnest. Fuck John thinks. He can see Bruce’s brain working. On a plan. To help Tim become a vigilante one day. What the hell? He gives Bruce a look. 

“He already knows the basics,” Bruce says. 

“Like all the boys and girls in my class,” John counters. 

“These children didn’t figure out one of the best kept secrets in Gotham,” Bruce replies. “Tim is obviously special. Like you,” he adds. 

Fuck him to hell and back, John thinks. “My town, my suit, my rules,” John says. 

“Of course,” Bruce replies, taking a sip of his coffee. 

Tim beams at them.  
John really isn’t all too sure this is a good idea.  
At all.  
   
~+~  
“I have to admit,” Bruce says into his ear that night as he’s all suited up and ready to go, “That I can understand people’s fascination with Nightwing so much better now. Up close and personal, with the delightful figure-” he strokes over John’s hip, his fingers grazing John’s ass, and John leans into it a bit, “You make in this suit. Was mine that tight?” 

John turns around to look at him. “A million sexual fantasies Bruce. A million, I’m not kidding you.”  
Bruce kisses him, deep and hungry. John presses closer. 

“Shadow to Nightwing,” Barsad says. 

John bites Bruce’s lip and lets go. “Yes.” 

“You sound breathless,” Barsad replies, amusement in his voice. “I’m waiting at R-point 34.” 

“Be right there,” John replies. 

“Happy hunting,” Bruce whispers as John shoves him away. His resolve is fucking crumbling, but he can’t let Shadow handle the city alone every fucking night, just so he and Bruce can fuck each other’s brains out. No matter how tempting that thought is. 

“Tim needs to be home around eleven,” John says. 

“I won’t forget,” he replies. 

John nods, he trusts Bruce with Tim’s training, and maybe in a few months Barsad will trust Bruce with Jason’s. One can only hope.  
John kisses him again just for the hell of it and then shoves him back, and starts running. He can hear Bruce’s laughter behind him and Barsad’s in front of him. He has a good feeling about tonight.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set in a not so distant future. Maybe eight to twelve months after the events of 'Put on your war-paint'.  
> For **Keyanna** who was wondering how Jason would react to being bugged.

**War-paint Extra**

 

“You're bugged,” Tim says. It's his matter of fact voice, but Jason is still tempted to argue with him. 

“I haven't been anywhere,” he replies instead of a million insults that are just at the tip of his tongue. Since Wayne took Drake in, he's an even bigger pain in the ass, but at least he isn't shoved around anymore at that fancy school he's been going to. Jason suspects it has to do with how he carries himself now – and it probably doesn’t do any harm to be seen with Jason. 

Tim shrugs. “You’re still bugged, but if you don't care. I don’t care.”

Which is such a fucking lie, Jason thinks. “Yeah, right.” He starts stripping then and there, because if he really is bugged he'd like to know. 

Tim takes a shuddering breath, trying to suppress something. Jason would really like to know what this kid's deal is – or not. He has his own problems. He hands everything over to Drake and grabs the duvet to snuggle into.  
“It’s the player,” Tim says after a few minutes of testing. 

“What?” 

“But it’s okay, it's one of Bru-, Batman's,” he answers handing the player over. 

What the fuck? “He bugged my player? That son of a bitch.”

“John’s obviously worried-”

“It wasn’t John,” Jason cuts in. 

“Bruce is paranoid as hell,” Tim replies. 

Jason gives him a look. He can’t argue that, but Wayne wasn’t even here when he got the player and he never has it out of hand. It’s his...first freaking gift and he only got it so Barsad could have an eye on him at all times. He feels the anger rise and puts the player on the bed, before the temptation to crush it in his palm becomes too much. Jason has a temper problem and he knows it.  
He takes a breath. “Hand over my clothes.” 

Tim does. “You want me to remove it?” He asks. 

Jason thinks about is as he puts his t-shirt on, then shakes his head. “Nah... since it's one of Batman’s anyway.” 

Tim nods.

~+~  
“Jason?” Barsad asks, looking up from his vigilante laptop. Jason had put a big Batman-symbol sticker on that thing months ago for shit and giggles, but Barsad hasn't removed it. 

“Who else?” Jason answers, flopping down on the couch. 

“Nice day?” Barsad asks, but he sounds a bit distracted. Jason knows they’re working on taking down some drug-syndicate for weeks now. It takes most of Shadow’s and Nightwing’s time. That's why he trains with Wayne as well now. Wayne isn’t bad, but Jason prefers Barsad’s methods.

“Enlightening,” Jason answers.

Barsad closes the laptop and looks at him. It must have been something in his voice that had given him away. “You were with Tim.” 

“Yes, and guess what he found?” He takes out the player from his pocket and lets it dangle from his fingers. It swings gently back and forth. 

“Jason.” 

“There was a speech when you gave me this. About how it’s what people do for those who like someone. But you only bought it so you could track me down better, grandmother.” His tone is half mocking, half really nasty. He feels just so angry. Without that speech, it would have been easier to swallow without all that mushy feelings stuff and he had believed it too. Fuck. 

“I meant it. I still mean it,” Barsad says. 

“You -” he wants to say that he had 'lied', but Barsad didn't. He uses truth like a weapon. He had used it back then too. Jason could feel it. 

“It was still wrong not to tell you. At least after Johnny was found and safely locked up in Arkham.”

“So, why didn't you? It can't possibly have slipped your mind,” Jason asks. 

“There are still monsters out there Jason. You can't even tell by looking at them. With the tracker I know where you are at all times. Should something happen, I can come for you.” 

“B,” Jason says. “When the scumbag who killed my mother attacked me, you knew where I was then too.” 

Barsad winces, just slightly, but Jason knows him. “I know. I am sorry I wasn’t-”

“No,” Jason interrupts. “I just mean you can't know I am in danger just by looking up where I am.”

“It would work if you were kidnapped.” 

“If I were a vigilante, yeah. You totally put one on Nightwing too, right?” Jason asks. 

“I wear one in my suit. There is one in every vehicle. It's a safety measure.” 

“What about Drake?” 

“I’m sure Batman made him wear one too. Possibly in his phone.” 

“Of course. That is why he wasn’t freaked out by this,” he throws the player to Barsad who catches it smoothly. 

“Should I put one in your phone instead?” 

“You gave me the skills to defend myself. Even when I was a scrawny thirteen year old. I think I can manage.”

“Do you want me to remove it?” Barsad asks, playing with the small item. It's worn down and well used. Jason loves that thing. No matter what. 

“Drake could’ve done it,” Jason shrugs. 

“I know you can take care of yourself, Jason, but it makes me feel better when I can check on you while I’m on patrol.” 

“You could always just fucking call, B,” Jason counters. 

“I don’t want to intrude-”

“You know how insane that sounds, right?” Jason asks. 

Barsad smiles. “Yes, I do. Still.” 

“You can call me, or you can check that fancy tracker of yours. I don't care.”

“You’re not mad?” Barsad asks, throwing the player back to him. 

Jason shakes his head. “I'm better now. You can make it up by making something really good for dinner.” 

“Deal,” Barsad replies.


End file.
